Us After This
by RZZMG
Summary: Theo Nott & Draco Malfoy want Hermione Granger. When she deals with one to teach her about sex, how will the other handle it? How will a Time-Turner,a fatal illness,an ex-,an Azkaban breakout & some old spells change the future? A/U 7th yr. HOT SHAGGING!
1. Chapters 1 and 2

**STORY DETAILS: **A Draco Malfoy x Hermione Granger multi-part story. Story is novel compliant up until the end of novel #5. From that day onward, it's an Alternate Universe entirely (Draco took the Dark Mark, but turned traitor to work for the Order of the Phoenix as a spy, and the Final Battle with Voldemort was in 1997 - the spring of Hermione & Draco's sixth year; the Order won the war and the students returned to Hogwarts to finish out their sixth and seventh years). Characters are a little OCC [out of character] as a result of the plot. _**THIS IS A DARK DRAMA-ANGST-ROMANCE STORY (with brief moments of comedy). **_

**TIMELINE:** 1997-1998

**SUMMARY:** Theodore Nott has his heart fixed firmly on Hermione Granger, but so does his best friend, Draco Malfoy. Hermione likes both bad boy Slytherins. When she makes a deal with one of them to help teach her all about sex and rid her of her virginity, how will the other handle the rejection? And how will a Time-Turner, a fatal disease, a cheating ex-girlfriend, a break out of Azkaban prison, and the introduction of a group of really nasty, archaic spells change the course of the future for all three of them? What happens to 'us after this?'

**RATING:** NC-17 (M – including explicit consensual sex, profanity, alcohol consumption, physical violence, pregnancy).

**PICTURES TO GO WITH THE STORY** (get rid of all spaces in this URL to load it properly): **http:/ / s905 . photobucket . com / albums / ac260 / RZZMG / Us%20After%20This/**

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_**US AFTER THIS**_

**By: RZZMG**

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**CHAPTER ONE: Troubled By Love**

_**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland**_

_**Wednesday, October 22, 1997**_

She'd saved his life, literally, and he'd fallen in love with her because of it.

He'd been trying to kill himself when she'd stumbled across him in the now-empty Room of Erised on the fourth floor. Somehow, despite the room's relative seclusion, and the day of the week (a Saturday), and the lateness of the hour (sometime after 11 p.m.), still _she'd_ found him during her Head Girl rounds. You'd think she'd have skipped out on work and been out partying the start of the weekend with her pals, like any normal eighteen year old did nowadays (especially with Voldemort rotting away in a pine box, serving as worm food for the better part of half a year, thanks to Potter, and the return to "normal" life as a result). But no, _that girl_ always took her duties seriously, and he'd been found out… just in the nick of time, of course.

He'd taken a potion he'd brewed himself in secret in the Lab. It contained the seeds of the _Strychnos nux vomica_ tree, the most common source of strychnine - guaranteed death in minutes.

Not more than five seconds after he'd downed the contents of the vial, sitting as he'd been on the cold, stone floor and looking up at the high-arched cathedral stain-glass windows waiting for the effects to begin, _she'd_ appeared. As if she'd known all along what he'd been up to, she ran immediately to his side, whipped the tiny glass container out of his hand, sniffed it, and then using a levitation spell, ran with him up to the hospital ward, screaming at the top of her lungs for Madam Pomfrey. Strapped down to a bed by cuffs, he was then pumped full of activated charcoal infusion and tannic acid (in the form of strong, lukewarm tea), and anaesthetized until the effects of the poison wore off.

When he awoke two days later, _she'd_ been sleeping in the bed directly next to his, a woolen green blanket tucked up to her chin. Unable to free his wrists, he'd been forced to stay in place, so he'd watched her silently breathing in and out instead. The early morning sunlight had streamed through the high windows of the ward directly onto her, highlighting her beautiful cheekbones, her long, thick lashes, her tiny, pink mouth, the auburn and sienna streaks in her dark brown curly hair that didn't appear in normal lighting, and he'd become smitten with her in that moment.

Now, here he was, four weeks later, watching her – as he did at every opportunity presented to him - as she talked and laughed with her friends during breakfast, and Theodore Nott knew that he was no longer infatuated with Hermione Granger. He was down and out in love with her.

He sighed, shoving his fork into the scrambled eggs on his plate and bringing up a mouthful to chew on. Even if he could convince Granger to date him by some miracle, it would never work out between them. First, there was the problem of his illness. Second, she was Gryffindor's Princess, and he was, well, a _nobody_. Third, he belonged to the Golden Lion's eternal nemesis – Slytherin House. And finally, there was the problem of his best friend, Draco Malfoy, who would make Teddy's life hell if the guy found out that he was entertaining any sort of thought in his heart for Hermione.

He looked up to see her throw her head back in mirth at something her red-headed female friend, Ginny Weasley, had said. Gales of tinkling laughter escaped her perfectly parted lips, and Teddy had to shut his eyes against the longing that roared up inside. He wanted her to talk and laugh with _him_ like that. Instead, every time they met in the library "accidentally" (he'd intentionally appear during the times he knew she was studying there, coolly making it seem coincidental) and they had a few minutes to spare to whispered casual conversation, they were cordial and respectful of their inquiries of each other's health and well-being, never so open as to talk about anything more personal. The morning she'd awoken to find him still alive and awake in the medical unit - the gentle smile she'd given him and the small kiss she'd pressed to his cheek in relief, as if they were good friends – had apparently faded for her. But not for him; Teddy fiercely clung to those moments, frequently reliving them in his mind.

He finished his breakfast alone, as usual, sitting down the very end of Slytherin's table nearest the doors, his thoughts morose. When Draco came and sat at his side, Teddy was somewhat shocked; Malfoy usually sat with Zabini and Parkinson, now that Crabbe and Goyle were both in Azkaban with their fathers. "Hey," Draco stated, pulling a piece of toast from the middle of the table's spread and munching on it.

"Hey," Teddy warily replied. Even with someone as close to him as Draco – well, as close as two blokes could be, given one refused to kowtow to the other's overblown superiority complex – the Slytherin within Teddy couldn't help but be cautious. He looked at his friend over his morning cup of tea and could tell by the mischievous look in his friend's grey eyes that Malfoy wanted something. "What's up?"

Draco chewed his food completely, waiting to reply until he swallowed. "Got a favor to ask," he slyly grinned.

"You always do when you come over to this side of the table," Teddy growled, not in the mood today for another of Malfoy's games. Knowing the guy, it probably had something to do with Potter and Weasley, two of Draco's resumed favorite targets now that the whole Wizarding War-slash-Death Eater thing was said and done.

"You're friends with Granger, right?"

Teddy cautiously glanced at Draco. The guy's cheeks were stained with a blush and he was openly staring at Hermione with _that_ look – the one he reserved for hunting bints around school. Oh, this was _so_ not going to be good. Teddy considered his reply, carefully phrasing it just so. "We're not _friends_. I've only talked to her a few times."

Draco's head whipped back around to spear him with that penetrating, knowing gaze. "She saved your life. That practically makes you best buddies - if you play it right."

Shit.

Teddy shook his head. "Forget it, Drake. Whatever it is, forget it."

Draco watched him, chewed on more toast. He was focused in a way he only ever was when out on the Quidditch pitch looking for the Snitch. "I think you're going to like this assignment," he finally stated in a low-pitched voice.

Teddy took another sip of his tea, tamping down on the growing ire in the pit of his stomach. Normally, he was a carefully controlled, reserved person, but Teddy knew that when he lost his temper, it was a _really bad thing_. He was like his crazy, old man in that way. Malfoy was pushing his buttons now. "I'm not one of your lackeys, Drake. Don't make the mistake of thinking you can push me around like the others."

His best friend gave him that stunning smirk that had the ladies – and some blokes – melting at his feet. Teddy merely stared back, entirely unfazed. "Stop trying to be so charming and spit it out."

Malfoy's attention returned to Hermione. "I want you to talk to her for me," he indicated with a nod of his chin in Granger's direction. "Suss her out. See if she'd be receptive."

Nausea rose into his throat as the eels slipped around in his guts, and he fought to ignore the hot knife of jealousy that mercilessly stabbed at him. "Receptive to what exactly?" he asked, his voice gone as cold as his morning tea.

Slytherin's Prince gave him his patented, enchanting smile. "To going out with me, of course."

Teddy shook his head. Of all the stupidest plans he'd ever heard come out of Draco's mouth, this one took the cake. "Absolutely not. I will not 'suss her out' for you," he grated. "And this scheme of yours, Drake – however far you plan to take it – it goes too far at just the asking. Granger's a good kid. Leave her alone."

Draco raised an eyebrow at him. "She's hardly a kid, Ted. As I'm _sure_ you've noticed."

The offhanded way he'd said that had Teddy thinking that maybe he'd been a tad too obvious in his constant regard for Hermione in public. Apparently, Draco knew that he'd been checking Granger out, too. He shrugged, trying to make it seem like no big deal. "So, she's grown up. She's still just as naïve and nice a girl as she's ever been." He looked directly and seriously at Draco. "Too much so for anything you'd have planned for her, I'm sure."

Draco watched him again with those impassive, winter grey eyes, and Teddy "flinched" first, dipping his head to finish off his tea.

"And who says I have any bad intentions here?"

Teddy scoffed. "Since when _don't_ you, Drake, especially when it comes to girls - and most especially _that_ girl."

Draco put his toast down and leaned in, as if to share a secret. "Ever since I ran into her this summer at Villefranche sur Mer, and saw her in that bikini, I haven't been able to get her out of my head," he admitted. "She was abso-fucking-lutely _hot_." He ran his hands through his long, white-blond bangs and looked back over at Granger, who was completely oblivious as to the scrutiny, engaged as she was in conversation with Potter. "Mudblood or not, I want her."

Teddy tried hard to shove the green-eyed monster down into his chest where it belonged, but he knew he wasn't as successful as he needed to be this time. "For Slytherin's sake, Malfoy, even for you, this is low!" He shoved his plate into the center of the table in disgust and wiped his mouth with his napkin. "Sorry, but I will not help you try to get into Granger's pants just for the sake of adding another notch of conquest to your bedpost." He heaved his school bag's cuff onto his shoulder angrily in preparation to leave and stood. "Just once in your life, Drake, consider someone else's feelings before your own."

He stormed out of the dining hall, knowing his friend's measuring eyes were upon him with every step.

Later in the afternoon, just before dinner, Teddy was studying in the library. He had retreated to this quiet sanctuary with no plans of "accidentally" bumping into Hermione Granger; she wasn't due there until later that evening, if she stuck to schedule. This was time for him alone. He needed to cool down, and studying always focused him as nothing else could.

He was already far ahead in his Advanced Charms textbook than the class curriculum dictated, but Teddy was atypical for a pureblood, in that he actually _liked_ learning about magic. He didn't take his power for granted, because there had been a time when he was a child that he'd been denied the use of magic entirely and it was only afterwards, when the vicious hex his father had laid upon him (a punishment for being caught reading a Muggle book) was released, that he realized how lucky he was to have been born a wizard. Cut off completely from the source of magic deep within his soul, he'd been like a person who'd suddenly lost all of their five physical senses, and the feeling of being an empty vessel and utterly helpless to the whims of others had made him appreciate his innate talents in a way that so many of his peers did not.

Ironic, really, since it was that same magic causing his illness, and which was slowly killing him.

"You're already at chapter sixteen?" he heard _her_ voice behind him ask in admiration. "I'm only up to chapter fourteen, myself."

Teddy closed the book quickly and spun around in his chair.

_She_ was here, talking to him, smiling at him openly!

Hermione grabbed the empty chair next to him and placed her book bag down on the wooden desk in front of her, taking her books out and placing them on the desk as if she intended on staying for a while. "Hi," he stammered in surprise, then caught himself and forced a smooth, controlled mask over his features. "Yeah, I like to read ahead during the first term so I can have more free time later in the year."

"Do you practice the charms, too, or only read about them?" she asked, opening her own Advanced Charms book to the chapter she was currently on. She turned expectant eyes upon him, waiting for his reply.

He shrugged. "Some of them I practice in advance," he admitted.

She turned to chapter fifteen in the book, then chapter sixteen, skimming the contents quickly. "Oh, well, I can see why you couldn't practice these outside of the classroom… and even then…" She blushed. The section he'd been reading had been on advanced daydream charms (a new addition to this revision of the book after the Weasley twins had invented and patented this particular type of magic two years previously). He grinned, finding her reaction adorable. "Why would they even teach us such things at this age?" she asked, flipping the page and intently skimming through the information. "Don't they realize what a bunch of hormonal teenagers will daydream _about_?"

He couldn't help the chuckle that escaped his lips or the response that popped into his head and out of his mouth without editing. "I don't know, Granger, what _do_ a bunch of chemically-wacked teens fantasize about?"

She looked over at him, blushing brilliant crimson to match the red stripes on her tie. She seemed as if she wanted to say something, and then shut her mouth and looked back down at her book, clearly thinking up a tactful way to reply. "I mean-" she whispered, as if mortified to be having this conversation with anyone, much less him, a Slytherin she hardly knew. "You know - kissing and stuff."

"What's so wrong with kissing?" he asked, not knowing where all his courage was coming from. He rode it out, however, happy to just be talking to her about something other than the weather.

She cleared her throat, licked her lips and clearly tried for clinical detachment from the subject matter. "I suppose it would be a rather… pleasant endeavor… if done with someone you liked."

"You _suppose?_" he questioned the wording, feeling his heart speed up in his chest. "Haven't you ever romantically kissed?"

She bit her lip, and her fingertip began rubbing back and forth over the charm book's leather bound edge. "Yes, I've kissed," she admitted, her eyes downcast, her long lashes lowered coyly. "Have you?" The last was rushed out, as if she was afraid to ask such a daring thing of a relative stranger.

Teddy put his book on the desk in front of him and leaned on it, carefully watching her. She seemed awfully nervous, almost as if… His pulse jumped into his throat. "Yeah, two girls."

His honesty seemed to set her a bit at ease, for she smiled tentatively. "It was only once for me. Honestly, it wasn't very good."

Teddy nodded, guessing who it would have been. "Viktor Krum, I take it?"

She looked over at him, licked her lips again and shyly nodded. Her left hand moved to her throat to fiddle with the necklace she wore, as if it were too tight around for comfort. She also loosened her tie a bit. "How about you?"

This conversation was just too weird. Here he'd been pining away for Granger for the better part of a month, and they'd said maybe a total of thirty words to each other – all proscribed small talk – and now, here she was delving into sexual secrets with him. "Usually it's considered bad manners for a gentleman to kiss and tell," he teased, warming up to this conversation. He saw her face fall and she looked truly disappointed. "But, if you really want to know, I'll tell you - so long as I have your complete confidence, that is."

She nodded. "You do," she vowed. "I swear not to tell a soul."

He looked at her again, knowing she meant it. Granger was nothing if not honest. "Okay then, Daphne Greengrass and Mandy Brocklehurst."

"Oh," she said, somewhat awed. "They're both so _beautiful_. You're lucky."

Teddy sniffed in amusement. "There's beauty outside, and then there's beauty inside, Granger. The two aren't necessarily mutually exclusive."

Sure, he'd scored with Greengrass and Brocklehurst as both girls were considered to be among the most attractive in the school, but what most people didn't know was that they were both devious she-devils underneath. He'd lost his cherry to Daphne during fifth year and almost his heart before he'd come to his senses and realized he was just one of her many beaus, and Mandy had taken him to heights he'd never imagined in his sixth year, only to dump him for Cormac McLaggen before first term had ended. Draco would call them slags for what they'd done, but Teddy preferred to just chalk both experiences up to incompatibility of personalities.

She looked at him in disbelief. "Does that really matter to a guy?" she asked, then put her hand over her mouth, as if shocked she'd even said such a thing. "I'm sorry, that came out all wrong."

Teddy snickered and shook his head. "That's probably a well deserved observation most of the time," he agreed. "But not all men are Neanderthals. There _are_ exceptions to the rule."

"And you're one of them?" she curiously asked.

Their eyes connected, and Teddy knew then that there was _something_ going on between them. This line of questioning, the expressiveness in her dark sienna-colored eyes… She was interested in knowing more about him. Teddy felt his heart leap, and there was a strange, light ringing in his ears. He leaned towards her. "What do you think?"

She visibly swallowed hard, mimicking his movement, her face inching closer to his. "I think you are."

Just as he was going to continue this line of questioning to see where it led, they were interrupted by Madam Pince, who'd moved into the section to put a stack of books back on the shelves. Hermione guiltily jumped away and turned back to the desk, cleared her throat and started rearranging her books back into her satchel.

"I think… I'm tired," she stuttered. "I'm just going to go back to my dorm and study later."

Teddy felt terribly disappointed with Pince's timing, but realized that the old lady had probably moved intentionally into their section after spying two students in such close proximity and alone.

Gryffindor's reigning princess quickly stood and took a hold of her bag, slinging it over her shoulder. "I'll see you later, right?" she asked and he nodded. She scurried out as quickly as her legs could carry her, and Teddy sighed for the lost chance. For a second there, he'd been sure she wanted him to kiss her.

_Wishful thinking, buddy,_ he berated himself. Granger was too far out of his league.

Back in the Head's private dorm room, Hermione threw her bag down beside her bed, jumped up onto her luxurious queen-sized mattress and with a wave of her wand, closed the curtains to the solitary window that looked out over the lake.

What had she been thinking? Teddy Nott was absolutely off-limits. He was Slytherin. He was Draco Malfoy's best friend. He was…

_Sweet, mysterious, good looking, smart…_

She sighed, pulling the necklace out of her shirt, dangling the mini hourglass pendant in the air, letting it swing in a slow circle. Blast the damned Time-Turner! If only Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall hadn't agreed to let her use it (the last of its kind, as all the others had been destroyed in the Battle of the Department of Mysteries at the end of fifth year). She'd requested its use so that this, her seventh and final year would be memorable; she wanted to score the highest N.E.W.T.s in the history of the school - a lofty endeavor Dumbledore had agreed. If not for that ambition, she might not be in the emotional bind she was in right now, though.

On the flip side, if she hadn't had the Time-Turner, she argued internally, she could never have covertly alerted her "past self" about Teddy's attempted suicide, which in her current self's memory had actually succeeded. By going backwards through time and saving him, she'd closed that temporal loop and changed the future.

But now she was left with the repercussions of that action.

She'd been pretending for weeks that she hadn't noticed Theodore Nott watching her, telling herself that he was merely curious by her motivations that fateful night when she'd located him in the Room of Erised, and that he was probably also worried that she'd tell everyone about him trying to kill himself and was keeping tabs on her to make sure she didn't start any rumors. But, the more she'd noticed him, the more it became obvious that Teddy was interested in her in more than a purely platonic sense. And, oddly enough, she'd begun to feel the same way about him.

She'd slyly watched him in classes they shared, noticed the ease with which he wove the magic around him and was bewitched by his skill. When she'd begun seeing him in the library more often, she felt the rightness of sitting close to him, reading and studying nearby in quiet. She'd never shared that kind of platonic intimacy with anyone else – not even Harry and Ron - and it comforted her in a manner she hadn't expected.

Of course, she physically noticed him, as well. Teddy was, overall, rather attractive - once you got past the standoffish attitude. He had perfectly chiseled lips, adorably mismatched eyes (one dark blue, the other dark green), was very tall (at least 1.83 meters), and was on the thin side, but cut with lean muscle. The defining features that captured her attention, however, were Teddy's large, but delicate and neatly manicured hands. Whenever he held a book and turned the page, she imagined what those fingers would feel like touching her skin…

And like clockwork, just as she started thinking about anything remotely sexual, the problem of Malfoy would undoubtedly creep up into her brain and set off a chain reaction throughout her body that left her uncomfortably wanting.

When she'd seen the git in France over the summer holiday dressed in only a pair of low-slung swim trunks at the beach, she'd nearly lost her marbles. His body, which she had never paid any attention to before, was absolutely delectable to gaze upon – well-muscled from his years of Quidditch practice, pale, with no visible hair on his torso anywhere except under his arms. The Dark Mark on the inside of his left forearm had faded after Voldemort's death, and was all but a pink line of scar tissue that was slowly healing, almost like a mild burn. He didn't seem the least bit bothered with it being so openly advertized, though, almost flaunting it as a badge of courage rather than a war wound. He'd let his white-blond, silky hair grow out again, and the bangs were once more flopping rakishly across his magnetic, winter grey eyes. He had the longest, most golden lashes she'd ever seen on a man, and his lips were sensual – _made_ for kissing. His hands were rough from years of sports, but they were strong, and he moved with the grace of a cat, and had amazingly fast reflexes, as all Seekers did.

He'd literally bumped right into her that afternoon, and they'd both automatically grabbed at each other without thought to prevent the other from falling. When she finally stared up into Malfoy's face and realized it was him she was clinging to, Hermione had just stood there like an idiot staring, obliquely noting him doing the same. They'd quickly let go of each other once the initial shock wore off, both moving as if avoiding being burned, but then they'd also openly and obviously performed the "roving eye" up and down each other. In those few seconds, Hermione had felt something in her lower abdomen clench at his hot stare.

Once he'd opened his mouth the enchantment ended however, and Hermione yelled something smart and curt at him (although she couldn't remember the exact retort in retrospect), and stormed away back towards her parents. She spent the remainder of that afternoon entirely ignoring his end of the beach, trying to relax and get a nice tan instead. By the time she'd gotten back to school five weeks later, she'd convinced herself that she'd obviously been a temporary victim of heat stroke that day, and that she felt absolutely no attraction to the loathsome, foul bigot whatsoever.

But then she'd seen him on the Hogwarts Express, putting his bag up in an overhead compartment. He'd been dressed in his customary all-black ensemble – a look he'd adopted in sixth year – but this time, he'd removed his jacket. The form-fitting turtleneck emphasized his body's beautiful cut, and the way his snug pants fit his backside left her imagining running her hand over those curves. As he'd turned to take a seat, he caught her spying and they'd locked eyes and _shared_ _a moment _- one that lasted for a long minute. It was the fortunate timing of some first years crowding onto the train behind her that coerced her into looking away and seeking the nearest compartment to hide in to avoid the eyes she knew were continuing to watch her. She'd had no choice but to admit then that she was physically attracted to Ferret Boy, and he apparently to her.

Despite that revelation, for the better part of the last seven and a half weeks since term began, Hermione had done her best to ignore Malfoy's obvious staring. Unfortunately, and as usual, he'd made things difficult for her, however. It was almost as if he could read her thoughts, intentionally putting himself into her view whenever possible, especially during the moments when she felt her resolve to completely discount him crumbling away. Once during Potions, while in the ingredients storeroom, they'd gone in at the same time and when they were alone, he'd proceeded to "accidentally" rub his hand against hers as they reached for the same jar of pickleweed. The next week, it had been lovage. Both times she'd cursed herself when her pulse unconsciously sped up, especially the last time when he'd shared a secret smile with her that made her guts melt and caressed her fingers teasingly before moving away.

Teddy _and _Draco - gah!

How was it possible to feel something for two different men, much less two _Slytherins_ who were _friends_? How did she get herself into this mess?

With a groan, Hermione released the Time-Turner, slipping it back down her shirt, and flipped over onto her tummy, laying her head upon her pillow, defeated.

Thank Godric's stones that Ron wasn't an issue any longer. After the fiasco of attempting to date him (right after Voldemort had been defeated), they'd both realized that they were no good together. She couldn't even get herself to kiss him, because they'd spent most of their two week "relationship" fighting. In the end, they'd mutually agreed that it was better to remain friends. He'd recently managed to catch the attention of Lavender Brown again, which Hermione was extremely thankful for. Now both of her boys – Harry and Ron – were spoken for (Harry by Ginny, much to Ron's chagrin and Hermione's delight, since Ginny was her best girlfriend).

Mentally exhausted from trying to rationalize out her feelings (who knew crushing on a boy – _boys, plural_ – could be so taxing?), she closed her eyes, attempting a quick nap. However, dream-like images of both Teddy and Malfoy tormented her sorely-starved libido behind her lids, continuing to confuse her. Frustrated, she finally gave the ghost up and with a deep sigh, forced herself into her private bathroom, rinsed her face off with cold water, and checked herself in the mirror. She looked like hell in a hand-basket - much too tired and pale. She hadn't slept well in weeks because of the additional school work, coupled with the personal drama she was putting herself through. Ugly looked back at her and she cringed. It was time to do something about that…

She tied her unmanageable hair back into a ponytail and braided it down into a neat plait, applied a little tinted lip gloss, some blusher and some mascara (gifts from Ginny for her eighteenth birthday a few weeks back) and spritzed herself lightly with the French perfume she'd picked up during her summer vacation. The gentle scent of honey flower, cinnamon and amber filled the air, and immediately she felt uplifted and sexy. This was the best purchase she'd ever made in the whole of her life, outside of her wand, she decided. Maybe she should wear it every day.

Feeling immensely better, she headed down to the Great Hall for dinner.

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**CHAPTER TWO: Deal With The Serpent**

_**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland**_

_**Saturday, October 25 – Monday, October 27, 1997**_

Granger had been wearing that sexy perfume for the last few days, and it had driven Draco absolutely spare with lust whenever he passed by her in the corridors or the Great Hall. Combined with her natural body's musk, the scent was delectable. Strangely, she hadn't even seemed to notice the attention she was garnering from him, much less any of the other males around her, because ironically, she was wearing the perfume not to entice, but simply for her own enjoyment.

Fuck, that was sexy.

He'd decided that tonight, when she made her weekly rounds about the castle, he was going to finally do something about all this sexual tension between them. He had the perfect location for his surprise pounce in mind – Greenhouse Number One, as it was currently empty of all plants, had been aired out so it smelled fresh, and was safe from prying eyes. Either Granger would respond to him tonight, or she'd hex him into oblivion. It was a chance he was willing to take at this point, as he'd go blind from all the wanking he'd been doing for the past few months if he didn't get some satisfaction soon. Even just a kiss from her would do at this point.

He waited until he knew she was on rounds, and then he snuck up to the greenhouse area, knowing she came by there last, around midnight. He leaned against the solid, opaque glass wall and watched for the telltale sign of her illuminated wand tip near the door. When it approached and the door knob turned, he held his breath. He could smell her perfume before she was a full half-meter into the room. Waving his wand at the door, he quietly locked it behind her as she moved further in, and then he snuck up on Granger from behind. Placing a hand around her waist, and the second over her mouth, he leaned into her ear and shushed her as she jumped and tried to scream. "It's me," he murmured against her neck quickly. "Calm down, Granger. I'm not going to hurt you."

He felt her swallow, and saw the light on her wand dim out; only the moonlight floating in from above highlighted them now. Her breathing picked up, her ribs moving faster against the arm that held her in place. He slowly removed his hand from her face, but maintained his grip around her body. "So trusting," he muttered softly with a chuckle. "Hardly what I expected."

"What d-do you want, Malfoy?" she nervously stammered.

"To talk to you," he admitted. Which was the truth, he _did_ want to talk to her - and if he was lucky, maybe even do a little bit more…

"All right, what about?"

A more perfect opening he couldn't have hoped for. Pressing his nose down against her neck, he breathed hotly on her skin, inhaling that sexy perfume at the same time. "About us."

She squirmed, trying to get him to release his hold on her, but he noted that she didn't fight too hard. "There is no 'us,' Malfoy."

He chuckled. "I beg to differ, Granger. I think there's been a lot of 'us' since this summer."

He wished he could actually see the blush that heated her skin up against his cool cheek. His free arm came around and wrapped around her waist, too, as he moved his body closer into her frame. "Put the wand down and let me show you what I mean," he seductively breathed against her ear.

She clenched her wand even more tightly in her fist and began shaking. "Y-you shouldn't be out here after curfew," she rushed out. "You need to go back to your common room or you'll be in trouble!"

He couldn't help but laugh, and in characteristic fashion, she couldn't help but automatically shush him. "Only you would think about rules at a time like this." He began running his lips over her throat, placing small kisses against it. "Relax."

She began shaking in earnest when his tongue dipped out to lap against her pulse. "Let me go," she whispered, obviously terrified. "Please, Draco."

Maybe it was the way she'd made the request, or maybe it was her use of his given name for the first time ever, or maybe it was because she was so obviously scared… He slowly let his arms drop away from her, doing as she'd asked. He may have been a Malfoy, and his family may have well earned their reputation for being ruthless and getting what they wanted, but Draco _never_ hurt girls. That was his number one rule - especially true after Katie Bell had accidentally picked up the cursed necklace last year (Dumbledore's plan - to help keep Draco's cover as a "loyal" Death Eater safe by faking attempts on the Headmaster's life - had somehow gone horribly wrong when Bell's curiosity had gotten the better of her and she'd opened the necklace's packaging). The bint had ended up in a coma for months afterwards, and he'd never forgotten how rotten he'd felt knowing he'd been responsible. And that promise never to hurt any female went double for girlfriends. He'd never taken anything from any woman that they weren't willing to give. He'd made sure of that.

Apparently, giving her freedom back to her without delay or complaint went a long way in earning Hermione's trust. She didn't step away once he'd let her go, seeming to immediately calm once she'd been released. He remained standing behind her, not touching her, but desperately wanting to.

"Thank you," she stated simply, straightening her school uniform.

"I won't force you," he affirmed, wanting her to understand.

She perceptively nodded, and turned to face him. "I believe you."

In the dark, he could barely make out her features, but with the movement of air, her scent rose to his nose again and he inhaled deeply. "Merlin's rod, you're driving me into the nuthouse, Granger," he admitted with a sigh, and ran a hand through his long bangs in frustration. "Do you know how much it bothers me to admit that?"

She tilted her head, as if considering his words. "I thought you hated me. That I was a know-it-all, goody-good bookworm."

He tsk'd in annoyance. "I do! You are! That's what's so frustrating!"

"But you want me anyway?" she incredulously asked.

He sighed again - _heavily_. "Yeah, I do."

She was silent for a moment. "In what way, Malfoy?"

Was she kidding? He was stumped by such naivety. "How blunt do you want it, Granger?"

There was a significant pause as she considered her reply. "Say what you mean," she finally bid.

He sniffed in amusement, his grin stretching from ear to ear. "I want to fuck you until you scream my name from the rafters. Is that candid enough?"

She was quiet again.

"What if I… wanted something similar?"

It was barely a whisper, but Draco had heard her correctly in the stillness of the room. He almost face-vaulted right there. "Are you kidding?"

Granger shook her head, sighed in frustration and tsk'd. "Oh, frick-a-frack, I _really_ hate to admit it, but you've gotten under my skin, too, Malfoy. But, well, I don't want to do that sort of thing here, not like this."

His mouth felt as dry as the Sahara Desert suddenly, and his heart was slamming under his ribcage. "Okay, when and where?" Did that sound a little too much like begging?

There was another pregnant pause, so he waited her out. "I'll make you a deal," she began, and that got his attention full force. "You teach me and I'll learn from you."

_Wait, what? _

"Look, Granger, you're going to need to clarify that statement for me," he drawled. "I'm afraid my brain isn't doing the thinking right now. What are we talking about here - kissing, heavy petting, sex?"

"All of it," she confirmed, and he just about came in his pants then and there. "But slowly, over time," she made the caveat. "I'm… I've never done more than kiss someone, and only once. I'm eighteen years old and I've got less experience than some of the third years around this school. Honestly, that's more than a little pathetic." She sighed again, and sounded so sincerely forlorn that Draco was hard pressed to bite back a laugh. Mocking her would definitely be a really bad idea; she'd probably hit him again and stomp out. Although he liked her fiery temper, he controlled his natural reactions.

Crossing his arms, he sat back on his heels and patiently waited to hear the rest of her proposition.

"I want to know how it is to… do _it _… right with someone I have obvious chemistry with." She cleared her throat with obvious embarrassment. "And, I think we've established that we're both rather interested. You're certainly experienced enough, according to the rumors. So, an… arrangement… between us makes perfect sense." She fidgeted and looked down at her feet. "If you're willing, that is."

The idea was the most wacked out thing he'd ever heard. It was barking mad. She was clearly up a tree, over the moon and around the u-bend – a couple of times, at least.

Still, it fit, didn't it? It was always the obsessive-compulsive, anally-retentive types who were the most sexually curious and daring, willing to try the craziest shite in bed with the baddest boys they could find. Draco knew that first hand. Still… "Why don't you ask one of your guy friends to break you in?" he asked, the little devil on his shoulder mentally slapping him for even mentioning other blokes at a time like this, while the little angel on the other side applauded his rationality. "Hell, Granger, half the male population in the school would die for a chance at you."

She was quiet for a bit before replying. "I don't want any of them."

His heart thump-a-thumped in this chest wildly. "And you want me?" he asked in a parody of what she'd earlier put to him.

Her head dipped slowly up and down once. "Outrageous though it seems, I do." She nervously laughed. "Ironic, don't you think - the two of us feeling like this about each other, after everything."

He shrugged. "Yeah, I guess. Makes sense, though, in a twisted sort of way."

She stepped closer to him and he dropped his arms, hoping she'd be swooping close for something good. "So, what do you think?" she asked, her voice low and soft and just a little breathy.

Woo boy, wacky as fuck!

"Okay, Granger, what the hell? Sounds like fun. How long are we talking? And when and where would we hold our tutoring sessions?" He wanted it all laid out so he could know what to expect. That would make the fantasizing about it later all the sweeter.

She seemed to consider the idea, obviously turning the logistics over in her head. "Starting tonight until Christmas break. We can use my room for privacy. Are you doing anything on Wednesday and Friday nights?"

She made it sound so casual and clinical, like it was a series of appointments she was setting up to get fitted for a new set of robes or something. He rolled his eyes and grinned, thanking all of the Makers above for this crazy moment. "Nothing I can't cancel. And celebrating the holidays with a bang, huh? Sounds brilliant."

She firmly nodded. "We'll meet in my room at nine o'clock on Wednesdays and Fridays. The Head Dorms are on the fifth floor, opposite side of the corridor from the Prefect's Bathroom. Mine is on the right, beneath the small tapestry with the Gryffindor crest. Just knock."

He nodded in agreement. "Okay, deal."

"Right, then."

She started to walk past him, as if the whole matter was now settled and they could just go about their merry, separate ways without another thought to it. Draco wasn't about to let this opportunity slide by, however. He reached out and stopped her with a light hand on her arm. She turned back towards him, and he could just barely make out her brows snapping down in confusion. "You said starting tonight, right?" he asked, licking his lips.

She looked down and he could feel her tense up under his hand. "Um, yes, I suppose."

He gently turned her and stepped into her personal space. "Don't worry," he stated. "You asked to take it slow, so we will." He reached down and carefully embraced her. "Wrap your arms around my neck." When she hesitantly complied, he nuzzled her throat, inhaling at the same moment and sighing in pleasure. They stood like that for dozens of heartbeats, and Draco relished the moment, realizing he'd never actually done this with a girl before – just hugged. She was so warm and soft and small, and her heartbeat at her pulse was fast and strong. It felt nice.

After a minute or two, he reluctantly let her go, looking down at her as she stared up at him in amazement. "Night, Granger," he whispered, enjoying this game already. "Sleep well."

She stepped away from him a little too quickly. "Good night, Malfoy." With that, she hurried from the room, checking both ways as she emerged from the greenhouse, and then darted off back towards the inner castle.

Draco stayed for a moment more, considering the strange conversation he'd just had with the Head Girl. Could things have worked out any more perfect or what? It was as if he'd just cashed in the winning Golden Ticket with the Big Bosses above - and it was one hellava jackpot. He punched his arm just to make sure this whole thing was real and he wasn't caught up in one of those damned Weasley daydream charms.

He made his way out of the greenhouse and sneakily through the corridors back to his common room in the dungeons, his mind working through the idea of 'tutoring' Hermione. Where to start?

Crud, the anticipation of their first lesson was already killing him. Hell, the anticipation of _every single lesson _was enough to give him a heart attack on the spot, but Draco kept his eye on the ultimate prize. The weeks of touching Hermione, breaking her in slowly would all be worth it as, in the end, he'd be teaching her everything she'd need to know to please _him_ when they finally did get down to the deed. And he knew from experience that if he could hold out until she was fully ready, it was going to be fan-fucking-tastic, mind-blowing sex between them - just what he'd been fantasizing about for the last couple of months.

He made it back to his bed without incident, quietly stripped out of his clothes and slid between his sheets in nothing but his skivvies. Staring up at the dark green – black, in this light - canopy above his bed, he grinned, practically thrumming in anticipation. The untouchable, proper, gorgeous 'Princess of Gryffindor' was going to be all his! In a few weeks, he was going to take Hermione Granger's sweet cherry, and being her first lover, she'd never be able to forget him – not ever.

Holy shite, was he the luckiest bastard on the planet or what?

Monday morning couldn't come fast enough for Teddy. He'd spent the entire weekend sneakily looking for Granger, but was thwarted at each turn. First, he'd had a meeting with Snape to discuss his "weekly progress" in dealing with his emotional baggage from the illness, then Peeves had caused a flood in the boy's dorms on his specific level on Saturday, and he'd spent most of the day casting drying spells on all of his clothes, bedding, books, and important papers, and third, on Sunday, he'd spent all day rewriting several homework parchments that had been too damaged by Saturday's deluge to salvage. He cursed his bad luck.

At least today he'd share all of the same classes with Hermione – Advanced Potions Lab in the morning for two hours, Ancient Runes Lecture from one to two in the afternoon, Arithmancy Lecture from three to four, and Astronomy Lecture from four to five. In between, their schedules were compatible for meals, too. Hopefully, he'd have a chance to talk to her a little at some point today.

He'd gotten up later than usual and so skipped breakfast, hoping his stomach wouldn't protest too loudly, making his way through the dungeons to the Potions room. Granger was already there, as was some of the class, including Draco. He made his way over to his friend. "Hey," he greeted the tall blond, still consciously aware that they hadn't actually "made up" after that last argument in the dining hall Wednesday, so he approached with caution.

"Morning," Draco greeted him with a smile that the cat could have worn after swallowing the canary whole. Instantly, Teddy's instincts told him to be wary. "Partner with me?"

Teddy nodded, his face carefully neutral. "Sure."

They spent the whole two hours working, not really saying much, but Teddy constantly watched his friend out of the corner of his eye. On more than a few occasions, the guy's eyes strayed over to Granger, and a hungry look overtook them. Squashing down his jealousy, he continued to observe as Hermione's eyes occasionally connected with Draco's. When they did, she would blush and turn away and this only made Malfoy's self-satisfied smirk all the more persistent.

Despite the distractions, their combined proficiency at potions allowed Malfoy and he to finish their Porlock Pox elixir well ahead of anyone else in the class, including Granger and Potter, who were paired up. Slughorn was impressed and allowed them to leave early. The two made their way back to the Slytherin common room.

"What did you decide?" Teddy finally asked, unable to hold in his curiosity. "About Granger, I mean."

Draco was quiet for a bit, but that strange half-smile graced his features as they walked through the portal and into their House after providing the correct password for entrance. "We talked this weekend. She wants to see me," he finally said, his storm-colored eyes sparkling with excitement. "We're going to try it out. See what happens."

Teddy felt his heart sink into his shoes. He'd thought, after what happened in the library, that maybe… _Yeah right. Wishful thinking, remember?_ "So you're dating then?"

Draco shrugged. "I'm not sure what she wants to call it or how open it'll be. I'll take what I can get though."

"You really dig on her, huh?" Teddy asked, just now realizing that for the first time since he'd known Drake, the guy seemed serious about a girl. His friend didn't answer the question before he reached his door, though. With a backwards, "see ya," Draco entered the room he shared with Zabini, Harper, and Vaisey and shut the portal between them.

Teddy headed down a level to his own room to swap out his books for the next class after lunch, feeling utterly miserable. He hadn't needed his best friend to reply to his question. The answer had been obvious: yes, Draco Malfoy really dug on Hermione Granger.

* * *

_**TO BE CONTINUED...**_


	2. Chapters 3 and 4

**CHAPTER THREE: LET THE FUN BEGIN**

_**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland**_

_**Wednesday, October 29, 1997**_

Wednesday night came much too quickly for Hermione's nerves. She was pacing back and forth in her Head dormitory room, trying to calm her somersaulting stomach.

She and Malfoy had constantly been playing a coy, almost naughty game of "look-see now, look-see not" with each other all day Monday and Tuesday, whenever the chance presented itself – which was too often for her sanity's sake, she admitted. He'd also reached out and touched her arm lightly in Herbology Lecture-Lab this morning, careful not to let anyone know, but with a look that reminded her of their last meeting in the greenhouse section. Now, she was overheated with the thought of what they'd agreed they'd be doing here, in her room, all alone tonight. Merlin, was she really going to let Draco Malfoy lay his hands (and his mouth… and other things) upon her as if she were some common slapper? Was she seriously going to give her virginity up to the boy who had, until this term, made her life a living hell with his saucy mouth and scathing attitude? What on Godric's great toupee had she been thinking when she'd made such a "smashing" deal with him, anyway?

_You weren't thinking_, a small voice in her head reminded her, _at least not with your brain._

If only their schedules weren't nearly identical (well, all except Monday afternoons, Tuesday mornings, and Wednesday afternoons… when she took classes which Draco did not... but many of which Teddy Nott _did_ share with her, though), then she could escape Malfoy for just a little while to regain some measure of reason.

And once more, even remotely considering the other Slytherin boy she was crushing on suddenly made her head loop-de-loop. The looks Theodore had given her in Ancient Runes Lecture on Monday afternoon told her that he knew something was going on between her and Malfoy. His weighty scrutiny – it felt as if Nott were trying to determine if what she felt was a passing fancy for his friend or not - had made her feel almost guilty; as if she'd made an obvious blunder that she should immediately apologize for and correct by picking him instead.

That kind of thinking was ridiculous, of course. Teddy had never indicated that he was interested in _definitely _pursuing anything with her. Sure, he'd stared at her an awful lot, and he had flirted with her once, but on the flip side, "The Gryffindor Playboy," Cormac McLaggen, had done the same thing to her several times last year, too, and it had meant absolutely nothing to the guy. He continued to slut around even while pursuing her. Boys his age were fickle like that.

So, no she had absolutely _nothing_ to feel guilty about, she reminded herself. As a free agent out at market, she should feel absolutely no doubts whatsoever about hooking up with Malfoy, right?

… … …

On second thought, maybe this arrangement was one big, huffing mistake. After all, she was clearly undecided upon where her favor lie, and for that reason alone, she should just tell Slytherin's "Prince" that she'd changed her mind… Yes, that was what she would do! She would explain to Malfoy that the deal was off, and apologize profusely. She'd even throw out the offer that they could hopefully be friends in the future. That should pacify him some, and satisfy propriety at the same time.

But wait… what if he got angry? After all, it had been _her_ idea for him them to do this. Would he think her some kind of tease? Worse, what if he then told everyone in school that she'd propositioned him for sex? Would he do that? She bit her lip in consternation. Malfoy _was_ known to be vindictive and cruel.

But what else could she do? She wasn't sure how she felt about him aside from her body's traitorous reactions to his presence. Did that mean something more, or was it just good, old fashioned teen lust motivating her? She wasn't sure.

No, she had no choice. She'd _have_ to tell Malfoy that they couldn't do this, that there would be no fooling around between them.

Right… she had a plan and she was sticking to it!

… … …

Hopefully.

* * *

At precisely nine o'clock, there was a knock at her door. Having finally tired herself out from all the pacing, Hermione had sat down on the edge of her bed to calm her frayed nerves. Now, she jumped up, tried to soothe herself by shutting her eyes for a second and picturing the ocean waves moving in and out… which reminded her of the beach in France… which reminded her of a gorgeous body in a pair of low-slung swim trunks…

_GAH!_

The knock came again, softer this time. She moved to the door, swallowing back her fear and grabbing onto her Gryffindor courage, and opened it.

Malfoy looked every inch the part of the most gorgeous man on the planet. He wore a pair of obsidian-colored woolen slacks, his leather dress shoes were neatly polished as always, and his shirt was a button down silk in charcoal grey. He looked freshly showered, and the smell of his spicy-fiery cologne wafting through the air between them (it reminded her of cherries in dark, rich port wine simmering over a stove) nearly sent her reeling. His hair was immaculate, his welcoming grin playful, and his eyes as he took her outfit in (she'd gone with a simple pair of hip-hugging Muggle dark black jeans and a tight crimson-colored sweater that showed off all of her curves on top) were keenly appreciative.

The lesser side of her that liked flirting with danger (the one that roared to attention whenever Harry was in trouble or when she was needed to do something sneaky, but otherwise stayed safety tucked away behind a strong veneer of discipline and structure) suddenly _liked_ the way that Malfoy was looking at her, and surprisingly it didn't want him to stop.

Locking her knees for extra fortitude, Hermione smiled, and indicated that Draco should come in with a wave of her hand. He accepted the offer and glided past her into the room. "Nice," he commented, looking around. "If I'd known the perks in advance, I would have tried harder for Head Boy."

She shut the door behind him and locked it for their privacy, and directed him towards one of the two oversized armchairs in front of the fireplace. "Come and sit down," she bid politely, hoping he hadn't caught on to the uneasy tremor in her voice just then. Apparently he must have, for his smile vanished in a heartbeat and instead, he watched her carefully as he effortlessly slid into the furniture with a fluid, perfected grace that made her insides perform cartwheels. His eyes were clearly questioning whether she was having second thoughts.

"Do you want some water or snacks?" she asked, playing the perfect host, trying to distract herself with "busy work," as usual.

Malfoy tilted his head with a slight nod. "Water, sure. I'm not hungry yet, though. Maybe later."

She tried to quell her stomach at his words – what did he mean by 'later' exactly? How much later, and what would they do in between now and then? These questions ran through her head incessantly as Hermione stood and went over to a small table next to the wall, where a carafe of water and two glasses had been preset aside by her earlier in the evening. She'd also gone down to the kitchens and politely asked Binky, a house elf of her acquaintance, to make her some snack food up for a "late night study session." What had been apparated up to her room within minutes of her request had been an adequate nibble tray, containing fresh cut apples, carrot sticks, half a dozen sharp cheddar cheese slices on stone wheat crackers and bite-sized red licorice pieces (her favorite candy, Binky knew).

She filled both glasses, and popped a red licorice into her mouth before turning back around to hand Malfoy off his water. As the glass passed between them, his fingers caressed hers intentionally much as they had when they'd reached for the same potions ingredients, and Hermione nearly sloshed the contents into his lap in response. He chuckled, and sipped from his drink, watching her intently as she crossed back to her seat and hunkered down.

A cheerful, crackling fire had been waved magically into being as soon as she'd come from dinner earlier, and at that time, she'd lit a few candles in wall sconces to give them enough light and warmth to talk by. She'd wanted ambiance for these 'lessons,' to encourage intimacy, and as she looked across at Draco, apparently it had been 'mission accomplished.' He seemed perfectly at ease with the atmosphere… which was in complete disharmonious contrast to Hermione's comfort level at that particular moment. Her restless anxiety was made all the more pronounced when she found herself speared upon his silvery-bronze gaze, the reflected orange and gold flames from the fire darkening and warming his typically cold, chrome irises. In that moment, he appeared to be the Devil himself, sent to tempt her innocence away… which was sort of the truth when she considered the situation, really.

Sod-all, as Ron might exclaim, what _had_ she gotten herself into?

"What are you sucking on?" he asked, breaking the silence.

She moved the licorice over in her mouth with her tongue so she could reply. "Candy. It's on the tray over there, if you want some."

"Or you could just share yours instead," he offered teasingly with a smirk.

She chewed up the licorice quickly and swallowed fast, and he laughed good-naturedly. It was a very nice sound, she realized, and it helped to break some of the tension in the room. Perhaps that had been his plan all along? It would be a very Slytherin-like thing to do.

"You look lovely," he complimented sincerely, scanning her again with his eyes. "Red's your color."

She blushed, completely on unfamiliar terrain. She reached for a polite, sincere reply. "And you look rather dashing in that shirt," she returned, feeling her cheeks simmering at a slow boil. "Dark grey is good on you. It brings out your eyes."

His bemused smile stretched from ear to ear. "_Specifically_ dark grey, hmmm? Now I know why you never thought me attractive in my school uniform all these years, Granger. Apparently, green and black aren't in my color wheel."

She couldn't help the giggle that escaped her lips. Draco Malfoy was teasing her - and not in a shocking, ghastly way, but in a laid-back, entertaining way. Would the miracles ever cease? She guessed that she'd just have to wait and see…

The implication of that thought slammed into her.

Apparently, she had unconsciously made up her mind in the last five minutes to sally forth into the mysterious, strange world of full adulthood and woe-be-damned her earlier misgivings. And right on the trail of that revelation, a familiar, pleasant feeling returned – the one she'd embraced during Umbridge's reign in Fifth Year, when she'd secretly frateralized Dumbledore's Army. The thrill of rule-breaking took hold and she knew immediately what that meant: she was prepared to mentally throw herself off the ledge of sanity and dive into the realm of the exhilarating unknown, unconcerned with later regrets or shame.

She sighed internally.

Really, what was the big deal? Malfoy had expressed interest, and she certainly wanted him the same way. Since they were both adults now in the Wizarding world, they could legally do anything they wanted as long as it was consenting. And wasn't it about time for her to shed her childish habits and take steps towards discovering her womanhood anyway? Many of her classmates had already done so, and she was terribly behind the curve there. Besides, the next two months with Malfoy _could_ be fun, the little voice in the back of her head wheedled. His skillful tutelage would assure she learned everything she needed to know about sex, and it could actually be a rather enjoyable experience, too. After… well, hopefully, she and Draco could even remain friends.

Oh, fiddle sticks! Like it or not, she already knew that she _was_ doing this. She'd firmly decided on that course of action the night they'd talked in the greenhouse. There was no going back now.

"So… um… how do we… start?" she asked, feeling her blush scald her face. She looked at him through her lashes, embarrassed to her core.

Draco looked at her over the lip of his glass. "We _have_ started," he explained. "Lesson one: learning to relax. This is part of the experience."

Did that mean that he wasn't going to try to kiss her tonight? She wasn't sure whether to feel disappointed or relieved. She chose a "safe" route instead. "Oh."

He put his glass down on the small end table between the two chairs and then leaned back, crossed his legs in the European fashion, and rested his arms on the cozy chair. "So, tell me something about you," he requested. "Something that no one else knows."

She swallowed and fidgeted under his stare. "I don't see how baring my soul to you is supposed to help me relax," she commented, a tad disconcerted with the request.

"It creates intimacy between two people to share a secret, Granger. It's also rather cathartic," he retaliated. "Here, I'll show you: I'm ticklish behind the knees."

She suddenly burst out into good-hearted laughter. "That's not a big deal," she admonished. "I'm ticklish behind the knees, too."

He grinned devilishly. "Ah, now I know your weakness."

"And I know yours, too," she countered.

He cocked his head to the side, and leered at her. "But _I _won't mind it if you touch me there, Hermione."

She felt her breath catch at the use of her first name, and at the tone he's spoken it in – almost a caress of sound. No one had ever said her name like that before. She swallowed again, but couldn't seem to pull her eyes away from his. There was a pause of a long minute between her and Malfoy, where all they did was stare at each other, as if feeling the other person out for intention and reaction.

"I like to kiss. A lot," he admitted next, seeming to relish the charged atmosphere he'd created in the room. His voice dropped down in register, as low and smooth as honey, and his eyes shuttered to half mast seductively. "To me, it's most intimate thing two people can do. I could kiss your mouth for hours."

Hermione's eyes moved to Draco's lips as he spoke, watching the words form. His tongue dipped out and wet his lips when he'd finished speaking, and she shivered in response. Her arms came up around herself suddenly - not to ward him off, but to contain her own hungry impulses.

"I like to be bitten," he relentlessly continued. "On the neck especially. I like to be marked by my partner. And I like to mark her back in the same way."

Her eyes slid to his long, pale neck, following the curve down until it dipped into his collar, and she imagined what it would be like to sink her teeth into that flesh – not with enough force to hurt, but with enough pressure to illicit a response from him. She felt heat flow in between her legs and squirmed in her seat.

"I like to talk to a woman during sex," he confessed, his half-hooded eyes glittering darkly in the firelight. "Let her know how she tastes and feels. I like her do it back to me, too. And the more explicit, the better."

Her eyes swung to his lips again, and an image of them parted in ecstasy made her heart patter maniacally. She could imagine that silky voice of his whispering dark promises in her ear with words that shocked her to even think them.

"What do you like, Hermione?" he asked deliberately, pinning her down with that direct gaze of his.

It took her two tries before she could put sound to her thoughts. "I don't know. I've never done any of that before. But… I think I'd like to learn all about those things."

He nodded once. "Good."

When he stood and crossed to her quickly, Hermione's heart leapt into her mouth. Draco reached down and presented her his hand, palm side up - an offering to join him. She wasn't sure what exactly he planned, but she was willing to throw caution completely to the wind right then, so she took it and he hauled her to her feet. He didn't touch her except to keep a hold of her hand and rub his fingers lazily back and forth across her knuckles, and for several long minutes, they just looked at each other again, no words spoken between them. What he was doing to her fingers, his enigmatic gaze, standing so intimately close – all of it was hypnotic. The man Draco Malfoy had grown into breathed sex appeal, and she was drawn to him like a fairy to flame.

After another minute, Malfoy finally let her hand go and stepped back, turning to look at the furniture in the room. Decisively, he pulled the table in the middle of the two chairs out, careful not to tip his glass of water sitting on it. He then pulled both cozy chairs together. Waving his wand over them, he transfigured them into a single love seat couch. Hermione gasped with the ease in which he completed such a difficult task and he tilted an arrogant smirk her way. He turned on his heel and made for the buffet, putting together a plate of food, and then stepped back towards her, tugging the small end table so it abutted the couch. He put his plate of food down, removed his shoes and socks, and hopped onto the couch, resting his back against the high backed arm. He spread his legs, and patted the fabric in between.

"Come sit with me," he offered, and she hesitated a moment out of habit. He seemed to understand, and smiled reassuringly at her. "Trust me, Granger."

She stared at him, trying to decipher his intentions through body language. So far, he hadn't done anything more than speak a few words to her (true, they'd been sexually exciting thoughts, but still… they were only words). He seemed to want to honor her request for them to take things slow, so she'd trust he wouldn't push for too much tonight.

She began to move forward when he stopped her. "Take your shoes and socks off," he motioned towards her feet with a nod of his chin. "And sit with your back to me."

She complied, feeling odd stripping just those innocent pieces of clothing away. Inside her abdomen, a riotous party was going on, and her ears began ringing gently as her blood pressure increased. Her feet were chilled the instant they touched down on the stone floor and she hurried over to the couch and scooted in as he directed to escape the cold.

It was the oddest sensation being pulled into his embrace again, knowing she was giving herself into the arms of her enemy… But he _wasn't_ that anymore, was he? Voldemort was gone, and Draco wasn't a Death Eater anymore (and even then, he'd switched sides soon after taking the Dark Mark - at the urging of his mother, the Order and Dumbledore - to help their side gather intelligence, like Snape). In the final battle last April, he'd even taken down Dolohov and his uncle, Rastaban LeStrange in one-on-one duels – a feat that was worthy of some amount of awe, given the skill and experience that the two older Death Eaters had. Of course, Malfoy had done all of it so his father would be released from Azkaban by the Ministry (he'd forced a deal out of them in return for his cooperation), but still… he'd been cleared of all charges by the Wizengamot this past June, and even praised by _The Daily Prophet_ as something of a dark hero.

No, he wasn't the enemy anymore. He was just a student trying to finish out his Seventh Year, like her, hoping for a future with good prospects and a relatively "normal" life (in comparison to everything they'd all gone through for the last seven years). She had to start thinking of him in that way, instead of how she'd come to see him over the last several years.

Draco's hands came around her waist and clasped in front, lying inert on her abdomen, and it occurred to her then that this was _really_ happening between them. It was all too surreal. He further wrapped his long legs around hers and then leaned forward a bit and pressed his nose into her hairline. "Relax, Granger," he breathed against her, tickling the back of her skull. "I want you to be comfortable with me, with us touching. That's all. Nothing nefarious."

Hermione willed her limbs to let go, and she felt the tension melt out of her as she closed her eyes and just allowed herself to feel instead of think, leaning back into his chest fully.

"That's it," he soothed, flowing with her into a more comfortable position.

They sat quietly like that for however long Hermione did not know – half an hour, maybe - but it felt _so right_. His strong body cradled hers protectively, gently and she reveled in being held by a man who clearly wanted her. When he shifted his arms finally, Draco's cologne wafted again towards her nose and she inhaled deeply, loving the spicy musk. She felt him reach down towards the table and then something crisp touched her lips. She opened her eyes and looked down at the apple slice he held before her. He didn't say anything, just held it there, patiently waiting. She opened her mouth, leaned forward and bit into the offered fruit, taking from his hand with a trust she didn't know she'd ever been capable of giving to him before. When the slice was finished off, he reached for a carrot stick, and they repeated the scenario. When she finished swallowing the last of the carrot he reached over for his glass of water and presented it to her. She looked at it carefully, seeing where his mouth had been pressed before and realized that she'd be drinking over the exact same spot. _An indirect kiss!_, she thought, and smiled to herself at the silliness of the notion, leaning forward to take a sip.

When she'd indicated that she'd had enough to drink, he put the glass back down on the table, then wrapped his arms about her again, leaning his head down again towards her neck. As his nose came into direct contact with her skin, she shivered.

"Cold?"

She shook her head at his question. "Still a bit nervous," she admitted. "This is all new for me… you know, touching a man. And then, there's… us. I'm still getting used to the idea that we're not yelling or insulting each other."

He chuckled. "Yeah, you're a real shrew when you want to be, Granger." She lightly elbowed him in annoyance and he laughed. "But I kind of like that side of you. Feisty and gutsy. It's attractive."

She blew a stray hair out of her face. "I never liked it when we fought, Malfoy. You always knew just what to say to make it really hurt."

He was quiet for a while, and then placed a gentle kiss to her throat. "Sorry."

Hermione's heart slammed into her ribs. Had Draco Malfoy just apologized to her for all the years he'd been a prat? Was she dreaming? "Then, I guess I should apologize, too. Not just for yelling, but for the time I hit you in third year," she offered. "There's never a call for violence, no matter the provocation."

He snickered. "You're forgetting that hex in fourth year…"

She sniffed. "Don't push your luck, blondie."

He laughed again, and she joined him this time. It felt good, and helped to put them both at ease with each other finally. "So, you still have yet to tell me something about yourself that no one else knows," he coaxed.

She swallowed, her mirth disappearing in an instant, mortified at the idea of letting any of her few shameful skeletons out of her closet. Would he think badly of her if he knew some of the things she'd done?

"Ever stolen anything?" he asked, as if reading her mind.

She nodded tentatively. "Once." She could almost feel his amused grin.

"Really? Fess up."

Biting her lip, she squeaked out the truth quickly. "A Muggle book, in primary school. I forgot to return it to the library at the end of the year, so I took it home, afraid I'd get in trouble for not turning it in on time. I never gave it back."

He laughed. "Granger, that's hardly stealing. How old were you?"

"Seven," she stated. "And it _was_ stealing. I took something that didn't belong to me. It was wrong."

"For Slytherin's sake, you make it sound like you robbed Gringotts," he teased. "You were a kid and probably afraid of getting whipped."

She shook her head. "My parents didn't hit me, Draco."

He went silent for a few seconds. "Never?"

The way he said it made her think that perhaps he hadn't been so lucky. "No," she replied softly, realizing intuitively that this was one of those touchy subjects that people either agreed upon or not. "I rarely got into trouble, and when I did, my parents would send me to my room for a while to think about it. When they cooled down, they'd both come in and talk to me about what I did wrong and I'd lose privileges."

In the long silence that stretched between them after her explanation, her heart sped up again. Had she said the wrong thing?

"You were lucky then," he finally commented, but she could feel the anxiety creep back into him through his muscles, and she knew then that Malfoy had been the recipient of physical punishment as a child. She wondered how often, and to what degree? From his demeanor, she guessed it was bad.

It was time to deflect the conversation before things became too tense between them, spoiling this evening. "When are your Quidditch practices this term?" she asked. Draco was now captain of his Slytherin team, as well as being their Seeker, so surely this would be a safe topic for them.

He seemed to perk up a bit, the gloom melting away as he shifted to sit up straighter. "Monday nights from six to eight, Wednesday afternoons from two to four, and Sunday from ten to one."

"Wednesdays, hmm? You'd better take a shower before coming to see me, then," she replied, tracing her fingernails over one his hands resting on her abdomen, curious to see how it felt to touch him back.

Draco bent his lips next to her ear and this time she _did_ feel the grin that stretched across his face. "Don't like sweaty men, Granger?" he teased in a whisper.

Her breath caught at the sensation of hot air blown against her sensitive skin once more. "I've been friends with too many Quidditch players," she explained, trying to concentrate on her thoughts and not on the feel of a pair of lips on her. "You all smell after your work outs. And you're usually pretty dirty, too. Boys and girls alike."

His hand twisted suddenly and grabbed the one of hers that had been stroking him lightly. The movement was so fast that she hadn't even realized it had occurred until he brought her hand up to his mouth. He placed small kisses on her fingertips, and from the corner of her eye, she watched his long lashes brush against his cheeks as his eyes closed. This time, Hermione forgot to breathe entirely, so transfixed was she with what he was doing.

When he pulled away, he glanced down and over at her from around her shoulder and smiled at her. "Maybe I'll just come here for my shower from now on," he jokingly threatened, tilting his chin towards the far end of the room, over the lip of the couch towards where the door to her private bathroom opened up. When she made to protest, he cut her off. "Hey, you've got all the best benefits in this hen pad of yours," he ribbed with a nonchalant shrug, sitting back again. "Besides, it's a better alternative to showering with a bunch of monkeys in the locker room. Hairy guys are _really_ not attractive, Granger."

She shook her head and grinned. "You're simply outrageous, Malfoy."

He leaned forward once more and waggled his golden eyebrows at her over her shoulder. "If I recall, I'm not the one who came up with this 'outrageous' plan for us to hook up, Hermione. This was _your_ idea."

She blushed hotly at being reminded of her boldness, and he laughed again.

"Oooh, not just any old red, but _cherry_ red is definitely on _your_ color wheel, Granger. Makes me want to throw you down and shag you right now."

"Cute, Malfoy," she sniffed, both exasperated and amused by his scandalous lack of class. "They should make a doll out of you and sell it at Christmas. I'm sure it would be a big hit with pedophiles the world over."

He swooped down and pressed a quick smooch to her cheek, and then he leaned back fully, pulling her tighter against him. "Oh, I'm going to enjoy you, Hermione." He sounded very pleased. "I _really_ am."

* * *

They spent the next few hours talking.

She told him of her family – what her parents did, that she was an only child who'd always longed for a younger sister, and of her days in Muggle elementary school. In return, he told her a little of what it meant to be a Malfoy – the social obligations, the training he'd received from a very young age as to how to behave in different types of company, and the traveling around the world that they took on behalf of his father's business or for personal political maneuvering. He avoided, she noted, actually talking much about his parents' personalities, and she guessed from how he spoke that he, too, was an only child.

He'd then asked her about her plans post-Hogwarts, and she let him know that she was considering working for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to help overturn archaic laws, especially in regards to the rights of magical creatures and wizard marriage laws that disfavored women. In return, she learned that his family was wealthy enough for him not to work, so he'd held aspirations of eventually joining a professional Quidditch Team in the hope of being bumped up to Nationals. He was, he admitted, undecided on whether it should be England or France's team he tried for.

"Don't you have to be a citizen of a country to join its team?" Hermione asked, her knowledge of Quidditch woefully lacking. She admitted that sports weren't high on her priority list for learning; she knew just enough to follow the game and some of the more famous teams and players, but that was about her limit.

"They changed the rules three years ago to encourage international cooperation," he informed her. "Players can now switch around to whatever team they want to contract with on the pro circuit. But even if they hadn't, I could still try for England and France. I have dual citizenship."

She blinked in complete surprise, and turned her upper body around as much as possible to look at him. "How did you manage that?"

The smirk was back. "I was born in Paris while my parents were there for summer holiday. Where were you born?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Whitley, near Godalming in Surrey. You were born in France? Wow. I had no idea. When's your birthday?"

He grinned like the Cheshire Cat. "When's yours?"

Honestly, the man was insufferable! For every question she asked, he came back with one of his own, as if he only traded pieces of information about himself in exchange for something from her. "September 19th, 1979."

"You cougar!" he teased with a faux gasp and mock wide eyes. "Taking advantage of a younger man! You should be ashamed, Miss Granger."

She turned completely around and sat down on her knees, facing him, indignant. "I am not a… a… what it is you just called me! You're my age! … Aren't you?"

Draco shook his head, snickering. "Almost nine months younger. June 5th, 1980." He reached out and grabbed her, pulling her body down flat against his chest, and pressed his mouth to her ear again. "You scandalous cradle robber."

She blinked in shock, completely unprepared to be held in such a fashion. Their cheeks were touching, and she could feel his heartbeat under the palm of her hand, which was resting between them, against his chest. Her own heart leapt like a mad rabbit in response, and she froze like a deer caught in wand light. "That... that makes you… a Gemini," she commented, not really believing in the whole Astrology thing, but grasping at straws to deflect her embarrassment and inadequacy.

He nuzzled his nose against the skin of her face. "And you're a Virgo," he replied. "Intelligent, loyal, efficient, organized – a devoted perfectionist. It fits."

She pushed a little back to put some space between them, knowing she was dangerously close to doing something rather rash. "I forgot that you actually did well in Divination classes with Trelawney. And what about _your_ traits?"

His smile was slow, melting. "Charming, adventuresome, witty, fun."

She raised an eyebrow. "If I recall correctly, Geminis are dual personalities with some pretty bad traits, too."

His smile dropped, as his eyes took in her lips. "Only if we don't get what we want."

Hermione swallowed and spoke before she could filter her mouth. "And what… do you want?"

Draco's response was instantaneous and as reckless as her question had been. "You." His knuckles came up to stroke her jaw. "I want you, Granger."

She thought he was going to kiss her then, but he didn't. Instead, he just stared at her, his fingers roaming over her face, touching the curve of her cheek, as if he were memorizing her. He slowly ran his right index finger up and over her left temple and forehead, down her nose, and she closed each eye as he feather-light caressed her lids and lashes. His hand moved down and he let his thumb stroke her lips and chin, and graze along the bottom of her jaw line with tender fascination. Enthralled by this side of the man she had never seen before, Hermione was unable to pull her gaze away or move. She enjoyed the light stroking on her skin, marveled that Draco Malfoy could ever be this gentle, and felt her heart tug in response.

_No, you have to be careful_, she cautioned herself. _This isn't permanent_.

When he'd had his fill of touching her, he slid his hands back down to rest on the curve of her spine, and they stared at each other, once more silent. His eyes were neutral, careful, but she could sense that he wanted her to touch him back, so she gave in to both his desire and her curiosity. Using her left hand, she traced a path along his face similar to how he'd done with her, and she discovered him for the first time this way. He had a small beauty mole on the left side of his face, near the bottom of his ear that she'd never really paid attention to before. He had a small nick scar under the right side of his jaw, probably from shaving. A slim ring of white circled around the pupil of his grey eyes, the color of which darkened perceptively as they moved outwards towards the edge. His chin squared off a bit at the bottom, and his lips were absolutely delicious.

She took the exploration further, tracing her fingers over the shell of his right ear, flicked his lobe with her nail, trailed down his neck over his pulse, slid over his Adam's apple, and finally dipped down into his shirt where the top button had been purposefully left undone. He tilted his head around as she needed to gain access, watching her the whole time.

When she finished, she put her hand back at his shoulder and locked gazes with him once more. They stayed like that for a long time, just looking, not speaking, drinking each other in with their eyes.

When the bell tolled midnight, echoing throughout the castle like that fateful din that had called the fairytale Cinderella back from her night of magic, Hermione instinctively knew their time was up. Reluctantly Draco pulled his hands away from her.

"I need to go now," he murmured, but it was clear to both of them that neither wanted this night to end. There was a pause of another minute where they didn't move, but finally he sighed and pushed her up into a kneeling position, working his long limbs out from around her. He stared into the fire for a few seconds, his brow lowered in confusion or concern – she couldn't tell which – then he stood and gathered his shoes and socks, and put them back on. Nervously, she stood at his side and waited for him. When he was ready to go, she walked him to her door. As she reached for the knob, he stopped her with a hand on hers, turned her quickly and embraced her tightly, cradling her head into his neck.

"Good night, Granger," he whispered against her hair, pressing a small kiss on her temple. "See you in classes."

As he pulled away, she felt as if he was deciding something without her that would affect this… arrangement… between them. This felt like a permanent goodbye. Was he thinking of ending things before they had even begun? But she'd _liked_ what they'd done tonight. It felt good and right. She didn't want that to go away. Panicked, she tightened her grip on his forearms. "You're coming back on Friday, aren't you?"

Malfoy stopped, frozen with clear indecisiveness, and she knew then that she'd been right. He _had_ been having second thoughts; he _had_ considered not coming back. Another minute ticked by before he sighed resignedly. "If you want me to."

Hermione nodded a little more eagerly than she wanted to let on. "I'd… like that. Very much."

That easy smirk wound its way back up his cheek, making her catch her breath once more. His eyes twinkled with mischief, and in typical Gemini style, he had switched moods once more in record time. "Me, too." He opened the door, looked both ways, and then turned back and gave her a wink. "Dream of me." Then he was gone, his footsteps light to avoid echoes in the empty hallway and prevent Filch from finding him out after curfew. She watched him until he turned a corner and was out of sight, and then she shut the door quietly, locking it back and leaned against it, letting out a relieved sigh.

He'd be coming back.

Friday suddenly seemed much too long a wait.

* * *

**CHAPTER FOUR: INNOCENCE**

_**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland**_

_**Thursday, October 30, 1997**_

Draco got back to his Common Room at twelve-thirty in the a.m. without incident, a smile plastered to his face the whole way. Tonight had been brilliant! Granger was… amazing. He'd been after her for months now, but it only, truly dawned on him tonight when she'd been pressed up against his chest on the couch that she'd wanted him, too, and certainly with an equal longing. That she wanted to know _about_ him, too… all those insane questions, her exploration of his person… well, it only heightened the craving he had for her. So, they hadn't snogged or shagged, but that hadn't been his intention anyway. He'd wanted them to get to know each other so she would be comfortable with his touch, and he was now satisfied that he'd accomplished that goal.

Yes, she'd trusted him to touch her, to feed her, to tell him some of her secrets, and he'd touched her in ways that he hadn't expected to, nor ever done with another woman. He'd gone with the moment and done what felt right, and it had been bloody incredible. All that had lacked was the kissing. But that would come, in good time…

Lesson one had been an unequivocal success.

"Home finally," Teddy drawled sarcastically from one of the leather couches as Draco made his way down the stone stairs and across his Common Room towards the dorms. "Late night snack?"

Draco turned and threw himself down in an arm chair across from his friend, who, he noted, was reading ahead in his Charms book, again. "Had my first date with Granger tonight," he admitted, smiling like a fool at the memories.

Teddy put his book down and gave Draco his undivided attention, turning those oddly mismatched eyes upon him. "It went well, I take it?"

Draco nodded, lolling his head back against the leather. "It went… She's… damn. Why didn't I notice before how fucking fantastic she is?"

Teddy shrugged, looking down at the floor. "Because you weren't ready to."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," he admitted. He knew he wouldn't have appreciated Granger even if he _had_ considered her before this year; the war had changed him by several degrees.

For one, he'd found out that a lot of his friends weren't really Purebloods (Teddy's mother was dragged before Voldemort and revealed as Halfblood by that good-for-nothing fuck, Avery, and Blaise's Muggle-born father had finally crawled out of the woodwork, after having successfully dodged his ex-wife's Black Widow leanings for years, to protect his son during the final battle). At the time, that knowledge had screwed with his understanding of the world, because he _liked_ Teddy and Blaise, and he wasn't about to give up his two best friends simply because he'd uncovered the adverse circumstances surrounding their births. However, when it came out that Voldemort hadn't been Pureblood either… well, that had been the topping on the cake. And it had finally convinced him that all of the prejudices he'd espoused previously were founded on lies. Sure, blood purity still mattered to a limited extent (he'd have a Pureblood witch for wife someday, as was expected of his station in life), but he'd learned over the last year to take his women – and his friends - as they came, no matter their background. Granger was no longer _persona non grata_ as far as he was concerned.

Besides, he'd been able to refine his sexual technique over the last few years, most especially since this past spring. Without that added experience, he might have blown things between him and Granger too quickly. Timing really was everything. She wanted a teacher, which he was sure he wouldn't have been capable of being prior to this summer, as he'd always been in it for the quick shag prior to dating Fay Dunbar in late June (that girl had taught him all about "staying power" and pleasing girls during their short two week fling). Granger would benefit from that experience now, which was what she'd asked for and why he was being given this shot at all.

"Are you going to be open about it?" Teddy asked him, drawing him back into the here and now. "Your… relationship… I mean."

Draco thought on it. He wouldn't care either way, but he suspected Granger might have a problem with them going public at this point. "It's her call. I'll wait for her cue."

He looked over at his friend when there wasn't an immediate response. A reserved man by nature, Ted was known to play his cards close to his chest. Tonight though… he seemed lost in thought, a small frown decorating his mutt face. "What's up?" Draco asked him, an unfamiliar twist gnawing at his guts suddenly as a strange idea took root in his head. "You don't have a thing for Granger, do you?"

Teddy looked up sharply, his eyes piercing. "Just wondering what your dad would say if he knew."

Draco shrugged nonchalantly, even though inside he felt a little sick from the very thought of his father finding out about his predilection for Muggle-born Hermione Granger. _He_ may have changed his opinions about non-Purebloods, but Lucius _had not_. The old man was as stubbornly set in his outmoded bigotry as ever. Draco knew that he was seriously tempting his Malfoy inheritance already just by still associating with Teddy and Blaise (luckily, if he got cut off, he could just rely upon the trust his grand-mere Black had set up for him; it gave him the chateaux in Marseilles for a residence, and was a large enough sum of galleons for him to comfortably live out the rest of his life with, if need be). "Lucius is just going to have to deal. I could care less what he thinks."

He felt Teddy's knowing stare burn holes into his skull. "I've been meaning to ask you something. Why _did_ you cut that deal with the Ministry to save your father from Azkaban, if you hate him as much as you profess?"

Draco kept himself from squirming under the direct questioning by zipping back up that well-practiced Slytherin indifference costume he carried around with him in his head. "For mum. She loves the fuckwit. And I got tired of hearing her cry all the time."

Which was a load of total bullshite, of course. Despite how awful his father had treated him on occasion growing up, Draco still loved the man. Hell, until this year, he'd actually even looked up to him, adored him as all good victims did their tormentors. And the damnable truth was that it was hard to hate one's parents, no matter their flaws, and on some levels, Draco still craved his father's approval. He never stopped admiring his mother, either. But Teddy didn't need to know any of that.

His dark haired friend measured his response, as all calculating Slytherins were known to do, and Draco held up his act under the scrutiny, holding tight to his apathy to protect himself. He may think of Teddy as his brother on many levels, but some hurts shouldn't be shared with anyone.

"Well, I'm off to bed now," Teddy announced casually and stood, as if he hadn't just been interrogating his friend's very soul, but rather had asked about the weather outside. "Night, Drake."

"Night," Draco called back over his shoulder as Teddy meandered past, used to his friend's bizarre ways by now, and hoping he'd been a convincing enough liar not to have this conversation come back at him someday. Teddy practically had a photographic memory.

He waited until his housemate's footsteps echoed away, and only then did Draco relax. Staring into the magically lit fire in the giant Slytherin Common Room hearth, he allowed himself a private smile.

"_You're coming back on Friday, aren't you?"_ she'd asked.

Hell, yes, he was! And they'd be starting on lesson number two, which would definitely test the boundaries of her trust in him. He couldn't wait!

* * *

As Teddy munched on his breakfast later that morning, his eyes kept straying over to Granger sitting at the Gryffindor table with her girlfriend, Ginny. She was smiling and laughing at something the she-weasel said, and he felt his heart melt watching her so easily give her love away to everyone around her.

Why the hell had he waited? If only he'd asked her out two weeks ago… Now she was Drake's, and Teddy knew his friend's reputation with the ladies enough to know that it wouldn't be long before Hermione was under the blonde Slytherin's spell. Undoubtedly, she'd end up in Malfoy's bed, and then her heart would be seriously torn up.

Although… this time, his friend seemed a little different, didn't he? All preliminary indicators pointed to Draco _genuinely_ liking Granger; she might not end up being just a passing fancy for the guy.

For some reason, that thought depressed Teddy even more.

Sure, he would be happy for Drake if this relationship actually worked out for him. Granger was a fine woman, and he could see how their passionate temperaments might abut just enough to keep them both interested long-term. But if he had to be completely honest with himself, there was a little, teensy, secret part of Ted that secretly hoped that Hermione and Draco couldn't make it last, that their dispositions would be too diametrically opposed for them to give it a good enough go around. He wanted Granger free, so he could court her.

But this was the darker side of him thinking. The part that came from his father, that no-good Death Eater son-of-a-bitch. The segment of his personality that was terribly bitter and angry about his fate… Teddy sighed in self-loathing. How could he think such rotten things about the guy who was practically a brother to him? How could he wish heartbreak on the girl he loved?

Conflicted, Teddy could do no more than sit and stare and pine away, hating himself for weakly desiring something he knew he could not have.

* * *

Teddy saw Hermione again at lunch. This time, she was sitting with Potter and Longbottom. Neither Weasley was in sight. But then, it was Thursday, and that meant that the two wouldn't be coming in for lunch until at least one o'clock, when Hermione left for her three hour Defense Against the Dark Arts lecture-lab. Teddy kept tabs on the comings and goings of her friends. It was a little stalker-ish, but it also helped him to know when she might have an alone minute, so he could try to talk to her.

He chanced a glance down towards the end of the Slytherin table. Drake was surrounded by the rest of his House's chirping birds, flanked on either side by Zabini and Parkinson. They were all talking animatedly, but Teddy noted his friend's eyes constantly stray over towards Granger. The two would occasionally share a secret smile whenever she chanced a look up at the same time.

After ten minutes miserably watching the interplay between the two "lovies," Teddy disgustedly scooted his plate back and stood, gathering his books and heading out. He didn't have a direction in mind; he just wanted to get out. He was feeling a bit nauseated, honestly.

He only made it as far as the men's bathroom on the other side of the Entrance Hall, near the Staff Room, before he had to throw himself into a toilet stall and vomit. Everything he'd eaten that morning came up and then some. When he'd finally finished evacuating his stomach and flushed, he stumbled out to the sinks and rinsed his face off and mouth out, spitting the vile, acid taste into the ceramic basin. He leaned his palms on the counter, and supported his full weight on them, panting and shaking, flushing hot and cold simultaneously.

"Hey, man, you okay?"

Teddy looked into the mirror in front of him and caught the concerned reflection of the Ravenclaw Prefect, Anthony Goldstein behind him.

"You need help to the hospital?" the young man asked.

Teddy coughed and shook his head. "I'm fine, thanks." He smirked bitterly into the reflection and bald-faced lied. "Hang over. Had a bit too much Ogden's and brew last night, you know?"

Anthony nodded slowly. "I feel you. I've done my share of worshipping the porcelain god. Just remember: liquor before beer, nothing to fear, but beer before liquor, throw up quicker, yeah?" He headed for the door, but before opening it, he turned back. "If it gets worse, go see Michael Corner. He's got a great restorative that will clear it all up, even the headache. Luck, mate!" he wished, then swept out the door, his robes flapping behind him dramatically, leaving Teddy completely alone.

Teddy ran more water over his face, knowing that nothing Corner could possibly give him would be able to do a damn thing to help. His illness was progressing finally; he was out of remission. And he didn't need a doctor from St. Mungo's to tell him what he already knew either.

The tears came again, and he tried to quell them by controlling his breathing, but could not. "Fuck," he whispered, feeling despair and anger overtake him once more as hot trails trickled their way down his cheeks. He cursed his bastard father for putting him in this situation. If only the man hadn't hexed him so often as a child… That Teddy had been able to hold his illness off this long was a miracle unto itself, though. He'd been very lucky to even make it this far. At least, that's what Madam Pomfrey had told him when she'd been informed by his mother earlier this year.

Lucky, right.

_Just a little longer_, he begged the Heavens. _Let me graduate first. Let me have this one thing for myself at least._

He thought of Granger, of her smile and her sweet voice, and realized that he'd just lied to the Almighty. He really wanted _two_ things for himself before he died. Selfish and wrong though it was to wish for his best friend's girlfriend to have some feeling for him, he did. He wished it with all his might.

* * *

Hermione ran into Teddy in the library that evening after dinner. She took a seat at a desk opposite him and smiled when he noticed her. "Hey," she greeted him.

"Hi," he shyly smiled back. "You up to chapter sixteen yet?" he asked, holding up his Advanced Charms book.

She grinned. "Eighteen," she boasted, looking a bit smug. "You?"

That slow Slytherin smirk wound its way up his face, and she wondered if all the wizards in that House practiced that look, as it seemed to be their patented facial expression. "Twenty," he admitted.

Hermione was floored. He'd gone through four chapters in a week? She grinned and shook her head. "Simply amazing. How do you do it?"

Teddy's smirk instantly was gone and he looked at her pointedly. "I've got no significant other to take up my time."

Her face was instantly on fire. The accusatory tone… Again, she wondered if Teddy knew about she and Malfoy, and if so, how much? "Oh," was all she could manage. "Well… still, that many chapters in only seven days has to be a school record, I would think. Highly commendable." She flipped her book ahead and scanned chapters nineteen and twenty to see what he was working on currently. "Hmmm… Incredibly useful plant conjurations. Interesting. I bet Neville would love this."

"Granger, I think there's something you need to know," Teddy broke in, disturbing her reading concentration. She looked up to see him staring defiantly over at her. "You're the top student in our grade, but _I _want to graduate as the Valedictorian for our class. And since you're only up by two points, I think I can pull it off. So, I've made the decision that I'm going to work as hard as I can this year to knock you from your slot. In the name of good sportsmanship, I also thought you should be aware of my intentions."

Hermione's eyes widened upon Teddy's pronouncement. "Well… um… thank you. For letting me know, I mean. Although, I'm not so sure how to feel about such a blatant challenge, honestly."

He grinned. "Well, I suppose you could take it as a compliment. A testament to your superior intellect, and how it's greatly admired… by some of us, anyway."

She didn't answer right away, disturbed by what she'd just been told. Someone – Teddy - was going to try to outdo her in homework, testing and wand practice? How _did _that make her feel exactly? "Thank you," she replied, flushing in embarrassment. "Then, may the best… student… win," she lamely accepted the contest. She turned back to chapter eighteen and began reading in earnest, looking to get a head start.

Teddy was quiet for a few heartbeats before interrupting her again. "How about we make a bet on it?" he asked so quietly that she almost didn't hear, even in the ominous silence of the library.

She blinked and looked up in time to catch his eyes looking with something like longing at her. It was quickly hidden behind his usual mask of indifference, of course, but she was sure she'd spied it. "What kind of bet?" she hesitantly asked, feeling flutterbys in her tummy again.

He looked at her for a second, then stood up and walked over to her side of the desk, flinging one leg over the bench she was sitting on and plopping down next to her. "Here's the deal," he presented, his eyes suddenly very predatory. "Whoever wins gets a favor of their choice granted by the other person. It can't be anything embarrassing, dangerous or which will jeopardize the loser's reputation, but aside from that, it can be any request at all."

She considered the proposition. "As in 'can you help me apply for this job?' or 'will you accompany me to the grocers?' That sort of favor?"

Teddy nodded his head. "But both parties consent not to try to weasel out of what they're asked for from whoever wins. Agreed?" He held out his hand.

It seemed like an innocent enough bet, insofar as bets could go, she thought. Heck, she'd played a raucous game of 'Truth or Dare' in May this year with Harry, Ron, Lavender, Ginny, Neville, Luna, Dean and Seamus that saw worse penalties for losing (thankfully, all she'd been asked to do on a dare was to sneak into the Slytherin Common Room and plant a Weasley Portable Swamp down smack dab in the middle of the floor… since she'd covered her tracks well, Snape never knew who had done the deed that flooded his House's main lobby and made it stink like a rotting bog for days). How shocking could a favor be if it wasn't meant to be, in any fashion, damaging to the loser?

She nodded and shook his hand. "Agreed."

He grinned at her, holding onto her hand even after they'd stopped pumping up and down. "Get ready to lose, Granger," he leered, leaning in close enough to make her heart skip a beat. "This is one bet I intend on winning."

Merlin's bones, she'd done it again, hadn't she?

What had she gotten herself into this time?

* * *

In his bed that night, Teddy looked up at the canopy overhead and smiled sadly. He knew exactly what he was going to ask Hermione once he won their bet. He only hoped she'd have the courage to grant his last wish.

* * *

**_TO BE CONTINUED...._**


	3. Chapters 5 and 6

**CHAPTER FIVE: KISS AND TELL**

_**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland**_

_**Friday, October 31, 1997 – Sunday, November 2, 1997**_

Friday afternoon, during the normal lunch hour, Hermione met with the House Prefects and her fellow Head Boy, Ernie Macmillan, in the library to go through the duty roster for the next week, and to get the newest incident reports. As everyone munched on their sandwiches and crisps – a luxury allowed by Madam Pince _only_ for these meetings – she couldn't help notice the excitement buzzing in the air. The annual Halloween feast and the subsequent House parties tonight were making everyone antsy; the twenty-four prefects (two from each of the four houses for fifth, sixth and seventh years) and the two Heads all tried to push through the session relatively quickly so preparations could be made for the fun to come.

It was simply amazing the amount of horrid gossip one could pick up from these meetings, though! Hermione had been privy to the last two years worth of scandalizing information about her fellow students, everything from the benign (pranks played on classmates, teachers, the ghosts and even house elves) to the ridiculous (drunken debaucheries and illegal dorm parties) to the potentially devastating (the breaking up of secret sexual liaisons, some of which had ended in hastily terminated pregnancies). She'd pretty much heard it all by now… which is why she'd felt so terrible naïve and woefully inadequate socially in comparison to the rest of her classmates. It seemed that even the most innocent of her colleagues had engaged in some sort of adult recreational activity. Heck, even Neville Longbottom had been caught snogging (with Luna Lovegood in a darkened corner of the East Wing, as it turned out)!

Well, now she had secrets of her own, too… She smiled in remembrance of Malfoy's light touches on her face and the warmth of his arms around her, and in remembered heat, she recalled his voice tempting her like a silken caress against her skin.

"_You look lovely."_

"_I could kiss your mouth for hours."_

"_What do you like, Hermione?"_

"Did you hear what I said?" Padma Patil snapped her fingers in front of Hermione's face.

Discomforted at being caught daydreaming like some First Year with a crush, Hermione cleared her throat and sharpened her attention on Padma, hoping the blush staining her cheeks would indicate that she was merely embarrassed at being caught not paying attention, and not because she'd been fantasizing doing more than just kissing with Draco Malfoy.

She cleared her throat. "I'm sorry. Could you repeat that last part?"

Padma sighed. "I was wondering about the schedule for planning the Yule Ball? I'd like to make it to Hogsmeade at least once before December."

"Oh, about that…" Hermione cringed, knowing what she was about to say would make the others slightly upset. "The holiday dance has to be held on Saturday, December 20th this year, because everyone will be leaving the next morning for the Hogwarts Express to get home. That only leaves us seven Saturdays to get everything ready. We're going to have to meet right away if we want to get started on duties, and then every weekend after to make sure things are coming along as planned."

There were a few groans from the men in the group, but the majority of the ladies seemed rather excited about the prospect and were smiling gaily.

"Ernie and I would like everyone to meet with us in the Great Hall at nine o'clock this Sunday to discuss ideas. We'd like everyone to present possible themes for both the Yule Ball _and_ Seventh Year's Final Graduation Ball, so get your thinking caps on," she instructed the group. "Let's make it something really spectacular."

"If that's all then," Ernie indicated that the meeting was adjourned with a wave of his hand towards the library's exit. "We'll see you all on Sunday, nine sharp. Enjoy the festivities tonight!"

People cheerfully started filing towards the door in twos and threes, many engaged in conversations about the House parties to come, others shoving the crusts of their lunch into their mouths hurriedly so they could rush off to their next classes before the one o'clock bell chimed. Luckily for Hermione, she had an extra hour free period before Transfiguration Lab started and could take her time.

She and Ernie left together, as usual, discussing ideas for the Yule's budget, but Hermione's mind wasn't fully engaged in the conversation. A part of her was already a million miles away, thinking about Malfoy's visit to come later that night.

At the nine o'clock hour, Draco knocked at her door, punctual once again. She turned the knob with a shaky hand and opened it, her heart pounding. This time, he was dressed in a dark blue silken shirt and medium grey slacks, but still looking his usual yummy self. She'd chosen to wear a pair of femininely alluring dark charcoal woolen slacks and a satiny green button-up shirt that tied at the waist.

"Slytherin green looks good on you," he commented with a smirk, and sauntered inside.

They went through the formalities – her offering him food and drink, him declining - and then she was standing in front of the fire, being pulled into his embrace. "Happy Halloween," he breathed against her ear, snuggling her close.

His cologne drew her in so she pressed her nose to his neck and inhaled deeply. "Good Samhain," she greeted back, nuzzling against him, enjoying the feel of the soft fabric of his collar against her cheek.

They held each other for a few minutes, and then he pulled back and looked at her. His fingers brushed a stray hair up and over her ear, tucking it back. "Your messy hair used to drive me crazy, you know," he admitted, pulling along the side and bringing a flouncing curl forward with two fingers, twirling it around and around lazily.

Hermione smiled playfully. "Used to?"

Draco let the curl go and glanced at her again. "Used to."

They shared a knowing grin.

"You ready for the next lesson?" he asked, drawing her back against him. Instantly, her heart began racing again, and she nodded, unable to form a coherent reply with him looking at her with such hunger. His free hand came up and cupped her jaw gently, tilting her lips up towards his. "Lesson two," he breathed against her face, "learning how to kiss properly. Very, _very_ important. Follow my lead."

He leaned in and her eyelids fluttered shut of their own volition, and there was a moment when she felt like she was in free fall, and then his lips touched down on hers. It was a chaste kiss, a small pull of softness really, and Hermione felt her heart melt at the sweet reverence of his mouth's touch. Once, twice, three times, and then he tilted away slightly. She breathed a little sigh of pleasure, and he answered with a groan of pure desire.

When he dove back in, his mouth wasn't as innocent as before. This time, he opened her up by applying light pressure to her bottom jaw with his hand and the kiss deepened, blooming into something beautiful and carnal, and they both gasped at the sensation. His lips played at different rhythms and pressures, teaching her with every touch what made a kiss good. First there was nipping and teasing, then there was hot slathering across one another, then back to gentle nibbling. Over and over, he repeated the lesson patiently until she caught on – which didn't take long. Hermione was nothing if not a quick study, and her imagination had been honed from years of reading and daydreaming. When she began kissing him back with a small degree of skill and a whole lot of enthusiasm, Draco moaned and seemed to lose a slight measure of control. His hands plunged into her messy, curly hair ruthlessly, and he pulled her towards him, forcing her body closer, molding them together. Her arms wrapped around his waist, and she slid them up and down over his back, all the way up to his neck and down to his buttocks and back.

They attacked each other's mouths ferociously, both seduced by the intensity of the feelings, neither one wanting to stop. It was at least twenty minutes later when Draco finally pulled them both up for air. He stared down at her hungrily, but for a split second, she also caught a strange vulnerability reflected in his winter grey orbs, as if he was both amazed and enamored by the kissing they'd just shared. It was gone as soon as he blinked, but she was positive she'd seen it. Then, that smirk was back on his face and the arrogant, pleased expression took over.

"Not bad for your first attempt," he teased.

She rolled her eyes and shook her head, amused, moving away from him. "Was it at least an 'Exceeds Expectations,' Mr. Wizard?"

He laughed, playing along. "I'm not really sure. We're going to have to try it again before I can grade you appropriately, Miss Granger."

Hermione raised an eyebrow at the challenge, and felt rather frisky and daring right at that moment to boot, so she grabbed Draco's arms and pushed him down onto the couch, then straddled him and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Pay attention this time, Professor," she teased. "I want to be evaluated fairly." With that, she leaned in and kissed him exactly as he'd taught her, starting with the chaste kiss and ending with nips on his lower lip. She pulled back only a few centimeters to look him in the eye. "Well?"

She caught the devilish glint only a split second before she was flipped onto her back on the small couch and he was leaning over her. "Hmmm... An 'Acceptable' level, Miss Granger, but there's definitely something missing…"

With that, he leaned back in and his mouth boldly teased her once more, hot and erotic and she felt her knickers dampen in response. Then, unexpectedly, his tongue probed its way around her lips and into her mouth. Ahh, so _this_ was what they called a "Frenchy," she thought, and settled back to enjoy the sensation of Draco's tongue softly, insistently sweeping through her mouth, tangling with her own, and then darting back out quickly. He repeated the action again and again until she caught on, and hesitantly attempted to mimic him. It was then that she realized that kissing really was an art form in and of its self. She copied his movements with each new facet learned until she perfected the techniques, and finally, when she put it all together, she had the skills to fashion her very own magnum opus.

Her tongue began by tempting his with gentle tastings, and then when he boldly eased forward into her mouth, she clashed with him fiercely. When he pulled back once more, she flicked out to tickle and tease, coaxing him to open back up for her, to come out to play. When he did, she rewarded him by running her tongue over the roof of his mouth, sweeping past his teeth, and then finally twining around his tongue, pulling gently until they parted reluctantly. A final small, chaste kiss on his lips ended the session, and she opened her eyes and let him go.

When he opened his eyes to look down on her, that strange vulnerability was back, and it made something in her heart clench to look upon it. She reached up and feathered his cheek with her fingertips. "Was that okay?" she asked hesitantly.

He didn't say anything at first; merely kept running his hands over her hair and face, touching her affectionately. Then he opened his mouth.

"Definitely an 'E'."

She smiled, but raised an eyebrow at him. "Not an 'O'?"

He chuckled, and laid his forehead against hers. "Keep working at it and I'm sure you'll get there."

They practiced and practiced and _practiced _together. True to his word, Draco could kiss her for hours. He switched techniques continually, one minute his lips soft and tender, making her feel adored and feminine, and then the next hard and demanding, making her vibrantly, sexually alive. She began to wonder if there wasn't _something_ to him being a Gemini after all.

"You taste like apples," he murmured at one point when they'd pulled back from each other. "I love how you taste." He nipped at her lips as he talked, the fingers of one hand twining in her curly hair as it fanned out on the cushion under her, the other stroking her cheek. "I want more, Hermione. Let yourself go with me. Give me your all."

Throwing all her reservations to the wind, she obeyed, tightening her hands on his shoulders, drawing him in as if she wanted to crawl into his very skin, kissing him with all of the feelings that she had been trying so hard for months to repress. It started out demanding, almost punishing, as if she was angry with him for making her want him so much, and then he simply surrendered to her, stopped battling back, letting his mouth gentle, and she automatically softened her lips in response, giving him all of the new feelings she'd been fostering for him over the past few days. Her hands moved to cradle his face as her tongue cherished him in the same way his had done to her. She widened her legs and bent her knees and he fell easily into the crux between her thighs, and she felt his erection through his pants prominently shoved against her most sacred part roughly by the unconscious maneuvering. She twined her calves around his, capturing them both equally in the shared lock. _Take me,_ she silently begged him with her mouth and hands and straining body. _I want you to have all of me. I want to be yours. _

"Yes," he growled as he pulled back slightly. "Granger… don't stop. _More._"

As Hermione continued to yield to Draco willingly, she knew then that she was starting to fall for him. And just as she knew the truth of her feelings, she also knew that she was helpless to stop them. This moment had been in the making for a long time, perhaps even before this summer she realized.

To be completely honest with herself, she'd admired the courage Malfoy had shown during the war, respected him for his strength and tenacity, was challenged by his intellect and deviousness, and even a touch envious of his openness and candor. She found him to be physically ideal, too: handsome and powerful. Overall, Malfoy was the perfect recipe for passion – something she desperately needed to shake up her bookish, proper, organized life.

But these feelings she had for him were disastrous.

She knew herself well enough to know that she wasn't one to take anything sexual lightly. This type of sharing with another person… every touch, every taste, and every longing look caused her to give away a part of her heart. It was why she'd shied away from doing this sort of thing for the last few years with anyone. And yet here she was, surrendering to Draco Malfoy, the most notorious heartbreaker in school.

Their arrangement was for the physical only, not the emotional, she reminded herself. He had agreed to teach her the pleasures of the body, not of the soul. The reality was that this thing between them was short-term, only to last eight and a half weeks, and by the end of it, she would be a real woman, no longer a virginal schoolgirl, and he would move on to the next conquest, and they would probably not be friends, no matter her desire to remain so. That was the agreement. So, she'd have to just hold her growing love for Draco in check; hide it from him as best as she could.

She tried to rid herself of the sorrow that crept into her chest by pushing it into him through their joined mouths, by letting him know in those kisses that she wanted him - even knowing that in the end, he was going to break her heart open and leave her wounded and bleeding.

Godric, help her for being a fool!

They spent the rest of the night and into the early morning kissing, until her lips were so puffy and sore that she was sure not even lip balm would soothe them. When they were finally too tired to keep going, he lay down behind her, spooning against her body and caressed her hair until she fell asleep in the safety and warmth of his arms.

He left to return to his dorm by six a.m., sneaking through the corridors to avoid detection again, and Hermione dragged herself off of the couch and over to her bed. She slept until the early afternoon, dreaming of orange embers in the fireplace and Draco's soft lips upon her skin.

Teddy couldn't help but noticed Draco and Hermione's absence from breakfast that Saturday morning. Had they spent the night together? The thought brought a sharp pain to his heart, followed by burning jealousy and then the customary guilt. _Just try to forget about her,_ he coached himself for the umpteenth time. _She's Drake's now. You have no right to feel anything but happy for them._

Even telling himself that didn't make the hurt go away, though.

Some days, like now, he felt like the most wretched creature alive.

"Morning," Blaise greeted him and came to sit across from him. "Didn't see you at any of the parties last night."

_That's because I was huddling under my covers in my bed, sweating from the chills and fever that came on unexpectedly last night after dinner,_ he thought bitterly, but bit back the truth, knowing that it wouldn't do for a Slytherin to let anyone know his weaknesses. "Didn't feel like partying. Went to bed early."

Blaise looked at him circumspectly. "You okay, mate?"

_No, of course I'm not. I'm dying. _"Fine."

The dark skinned man narrowed his eyes in disbelief. "You don't _look _okay. You're paler than Drake."

Teddy shrugged noncommittally and lied again. "I had a headache all night. It's still hanging on, and I didn't get much sleep because of it."

Seeming to accept the plausible explanation, Blaise reached for a crumpet from the middle of the table. "Go see Corner. He's better stocked against headache-hangover remedies than Pomfrey. He charges a galleon for the help, but that's only so he can resupply."

Teddy sipped from his tea and internally snorted. "Yeah, I'll do that. Thanks."

Zabini looked around. "You see Malfoy this morning?"

Teddy shook his head. "Nope. Probably recovering from last night's… romp."

Blaise made a tsking noise. "I didn't see him at any of the House parties either. Must be chasing a new skirt. Wonder who it is this time?" He looked at Teddy meaningfully, but if there was one thing Teddy didn't do, it was gossip. He kept his mouth shut, and his eyes and ears open, like a good Slytherin was supposed to do. Apparently, Blaise still hadn't learned that lesson yet, despite all his years living in viper central.

Teddy shrugged again, faking ignorance. "Who knows with him?"

"Yeah," Zabini agreed, and stood up. "Well, if you see him, tell him I need to talk to him."

_So not going to happen._ Teddy knew what Blaise was all about, and the last thing he planned to contribute to was the verbal destruction of Granger's reputation at the biting mouths of his fellow Housemates. All Draco had to do was insinuate something inappropriate going on with the Head Girl to Blaise and she'd be socially ruined within an hour. No way was he going to let that happen. "Sure thing," he fibbed and turned back to his tea as Zabini walked back over to his end of the table to sit with Parkinson.

Logically, Teddy knew that he couldn't keep the tongues from wagging for too long, especially if Drake and Hermione decided to go public, but what little he _could_ do to protect her, he would. A man in love had no other choice.

Granger finally put in an appearance at dinner time. Draco, Teddy noted, had as well. Neither had shown up at lunch after skipping breakfast entirely. Apparently, it had been a very long night for the both of them… Across the hall, the two new lovebirds traded a look, and Teddy's suspicions were confirmed.

Before he could register his feelings about that, however, he caught sight of Blaise on the other side of Draco watching their blond friend and Granger exchange recognitions, his mind putting two and two together quickly.

_Shit._

Without realizing what he was doing, Teddy crossed the expanse of the dining hall quickly and moved down the aisle between Gryffindor's table and the outer wall, making a beeline right for Granger. As he approached, Ginny, who was facing him as she turned towards Hermione to talk, brought her friend's attention to him. Turning about on the bench, Hermione's bright smile made his breath catch for a second.

"Hey there!" she enthusiastically welcomed him. "Have a seat?" she indicated the empty space next to her.

Carefully watching his own table from his peripheral vision, he accepted the invitation with a polite nod. "Thank you." He sat rather close to Hermione, picked up a piece of garlic bread and began nibbling on it like it was the most natural thing in the world to do, and that he was in the most comfortable location to be at that particular moment. "Did you know that there's been… _interest_… in what the Crowned Prince has secretly been up to lately? You'd think people normally wouldn't wonder what a Muggle-loving royal does with his spare time, right?" he asked her casually, hoping she caught on to his hidden meaning. Granger was known to be a brilliant deductor of facts, but could she parse out his coded message? He turned and speared her with a look. "Still, those Italian press vultures – what are they called – paparazzi? Still, those types, they're everywhere, watching all the time, always looking for a way to ruin the Prince. Sad, don't you think? There's just no privacy for the rich and famous anymore."

He chewed a hunk out of the bread and simply watched her, willing her to surmise the inference. It took less than half a minute, but then her eyes shot to his in concern. He swallowed the mouthful of food and nodded, realizing she had figured out his meaning finally.

She licked her lips nervously. "It's a good thing… the Prince… has at least one loyal… guard… to watch out for him," she muttered, carefully choosing her words so as to not give anything away.

Teddy agreed. "Hmmm, yes. Lucky fellow, huh?" He finished off the bread and stood, throwing her a friendly smile. "Anyway, I'm finding Muggle Studies to be a fascinating subject, Granger. Thanks for turning me on to it." With that double _entendre_, he turned on his heel and made his way back to his own plate.

As he sat back down, from his corner vision, he saw Blaise frown, apparently confused. Good, let the guy think that any earlier assumptions he had held about Malfoy and Granger were now suspect of being incorrect. At least it would throw off Zabini long enough for Drake to wake up to the fact that either he needed to be more discreet, or for his friend and Granger to go public.

"Blaise knows to keep his mouth shut," Draco argued after Teddy explained his suspicions to him. They were standing in the bell tower above the Entrance Hall after dinner, whispering, despite the _Muffliato_ spell Teddy had cast earlier over the space.

"Maybe, but can Parkinson?" Teddy asked, throwing his friend a telling look.

Draco blinked twice before realizing what had been implied. "When did they start seeing each other? And how come I didn't fucking notice?"

Teddy shook his head in amazement. "The night of the welcoming party for the newly sorted Slytherins, and you didn't notice because you've been too fixated on Granger to pay attention to anything else all term."

Draco ran a hand through his bangs, pushing them off his face. "Shit."

Teddy nodded. "Exactly."

There was silence between them as Teddy waited for his friend to decide what he planned to do. Pacing back and forth in the small space, Drake started fiddling with his wand, twirling it between the fingers of his right hand nimbly. "I don't think Granger will want to go public yet."

Teddy raised an eyebrow. "You sure about that? She seems quite sweet on you."

Draco shook his head. "It's barely been a week, and we've only seen each other twice officially. She's still adjusting to the idea of us getting together. Being forced to explain what's going on with me to Potter or Weasley - much less the whole bloody school - before she's ready… No, she won't like that."

"Then you'll have to be more prudent in your public carryings-on," Teddy advised.

His friend nodded. "I'll have to talk to her about it right away." Draco turned to him, sincere gratitude lining his facial features. "Thanks for the heads up, bro. I owe you one."

Teddy shrugged and shook his head. "No, you don't."

Draco carefully studied him for ten long seconds, and then nodded and strode away, presumably to find Granger and explain things to her. Teddy stayed up in the cold tower after the sound of his best friend's footsteps faded. He leaned over the iron wrought railing and looked out over the main entry courtyard below. There would be frost tonight; the scent and feel of an Arctic wind was on the air. Winter was going to come earlier again this year. Maybe next week they'd see their first snow.

Feeling the familiar ache in his bones and joints, Teddy reached into his inner robes pocket and pulled out a vial of restorative. Breaking the wax with his thumbnail and pulling the stopper, he chugged the foul smelling, dark red concoction. It tasted little better then it smelled – like chalk mixed with blood. He gagged as it hit the back of his throat, but managed to keep his stomach from rebelling. The slight tremors – side effects of the philter - began soon after, but tapered off in less than three or four minutes. Re-stoppering the vial, he replaced it inside his robes with a mental note to return it to Madam Pomfrey tomorrow for a refill.

At least tonight he would be able to get some much needed rest, as a sleeping draught awaited him once he returned to his room. He'd put it inside his trunk this afternoon after going to see the Medi-witch about his god-awful experience the night before.

If he had to be completely honest with himself, Teddy knew that he was still really embittered that for all the Wizarding world's long years of medical knowledge, nothing could be done to save him this time. He could fight the painful effects of his illness with some restoratives, and anti-nausea and sleeping potions, but there was no cure for what he had.

"_I'm sorry, Mr. Nott, but your magic is eating you from the inside out. We've consulted all of our experts here at St. Mungo's and at our sister hospitals abroad and this is the best we can offer…"_

Sure, they could save a wizard from petrification, stab wounds, misaligned limbs, and jellified bones, but not from the magical equivalent of aggressive Leukemia. His body was literally destroying his immune system slowly, the out of sync magical energies resonating within his wizard's core disrupting the creation of red blood cells while simultaneously overproducing white blood cells. Irreversible. He'd be dead in less than a year. Both Wizard and Muggle doctors had told him the same thing. And it wouldn't be a good way to die, either.

_Thanks, dad, you sick bastard. May you rot in hell._

If only his father hadn't experimented on him so often as a kid, throwing random Dark Curses on him and strapping him down and forcing untried concoctions down his throat – all in an effort to document the effects for when Voldemort made his "grand return" (like the elder Nott was some sort of fucking Josef Mengele aspirant) - this never would have happened.

At least his father had gotten his in the end. Teddy had made sure of that.

He sighed. Yeah, he should definitely take Snape up on his offer for weekly therapy talks. Apparently, he was still _really _angry with the unalterable fate that awaited him. And since suicide was now off the table with _her _in the picture...

Prior to Granger shoving her way into his heart, Teddy could have cared less how he left the world, but now he wanted to spend every second he could near her, even if she couldn't be his. For a moment, he allowed himself to prod the precious memories he held of her; of the sunlight on her hair, of her innocent, sleeping face, of her laughter. He calmed perceptively.

Hermione may belong to Drake, but Teddy would be there to keep an eye on her, too. And once he won their bet, he'd get his favor from her. And then, maybe, his soul could find some real rest. That hope was the only thing keeping him upright and moving at the moment.

While heading up the stairs towards the fifth floor, Draco stopped half way up the flight and peeked through the archway down the fourth floor hallway to spy a familiar, curly head going into the library. Backing down the stairs, he followed Hermione's destination.

The one thing Draco never knew until that moment was that the weekend after a holiday created a dead space in the library. Not even Madam Pince was in attendance; probably still with the other staff members enjoying an after dinner cordial and dessert. If he'd even have guessed this was the case, he'd have gotten laid in here at some point during his Hogwarts career.

Heck, if he was really lucky, he still might… This _was_ Granger's favorite hangout in the entirety of the castle, after all.

With that thought flitting through his mind, he quietly stalked past the empty aisles until he found her sitting at a desk in the back corner. She was reading by candlelight, studying on a Saturday night. He almost laughed. Then he remembered how lucky he was that she wasn't out with some other bloke and was suddenly very thankful that she was the honest, hardworking type.

"Hey," he spoke softly, not wanting to spook her.

She only jolted a bit, closing her book quickly. When she recognized him, a genuine smile melted across her face and Draco felt his heart catch. "Hi."

"Sorry to interrupt," he excused, waving a hand at her book and bag.

She shook her head nervously. "You didn't." She shook her head. "You don't." She looked down briefly, smiling at how foolish she knew she sounded. "Um… Join me?"

He lifted a chair from a nearby desk and brought it down next to hers and sat. "We need to talk," he began seriously.

Instantly, her smile faded and she frowned. "Oh… I see. Well… Um, I can't say this wasn't completely unexpected."

Draco blinked, confused. "What?"

She bit her lip. "You want to stop seeing me, I take it."

Was she daft?

"No. What makes you think that?"

Hermione seemed truly surprised. "But… usually a person only caveats a conversation with 'we need to talk' when they intend on dumping the other party."

Draco ran his hands through his bangs in unexpected frustration. "Woman, do you have a screw loose or something? There's _no way_ I'm breaking things off with you."

He hadn't even realized what he'd said until her face lit up like the sun. Her perfectly white smile was so bright it hurt to look at. "Oh, well, then… that's… good. Because I don't want to either. Stop seeing you, that is."

With a deep sigh (and feeling incredibly foolish), Draco took her hands off the book she'd protectively pulled to her chest and set it down on the desk. He then took her hands in his and leaned forward, looking down at her small, delicate fingers. "I like what we're doing, Hermione. I don't want to stop. But if you decide you don't want to do this anymore with me, I want you to tell it to me straight." He looked up at her earnestly. "And no waiting for the right time. Just say it, okay?"

She nodded. "You, too?"

He sealed the promise with a kiss to the back of her fingertips. "Okay."

They stared at each other across the half meter, and Draco was lost in her dark, honest eyes once more. He reached out and with an insistent tug drew her off her chair to straddle him, then wrapped his arms around her waist, looking up at her as she now sat over him slightly. "Kiss me, Granger. I want to taste you again."

Her hands moved up his arms, around his shoulders, winding themselves about him as she pressed her lips down on his tenderly. Very quickly, the kiss burst into something hot and desperate, and they were clinging to each other as if they were both drowning, their hands greedy and grasping, and their moans echoing each other. Her fingers ran through his baby-fine hair, grabbing hold tight, just as his did to her curls. They ate at each other's mouths in raw, frantic hunger.

Draco stood abruptly, his body moving on its own. Holding her about his waist with one arm, he shoved her books and bag off the desk with the other, then propped her bottom on the flat, wooden surface and pushed her over onto her back. He rode her down, his hands cradling her head to prevent her from bumping hard, nudging himself in between her legs. When she was finally horizontal, his right hand snaked out and began roaming over her casual knit sweater even as he continued to kiss her madly. He felt Hermione up over her clothes, but it wasn't enough. He wanted to touch her bare skin. He wanted to know how that felt.

His hand dove under her sweater, and followed a trail from her waist up over her abdomen, his fingers caressing the flat plane of her stomach, dipping playfully into her bellybutton, then moving up to cup the bottom of her breast through her cotton and lace brassiere. Hermione gasped under him and arched into his palm, her hips accidentally grinding against his pelvis at the same time, driving him incensed with want. He pushed the fabric of her bra up and felt her freed breast for the first time with his fingertips. It was of medium size – a B cup, fit into his palm nicely, and reacted to him perfectly, the nipple becoming erect the second his flesh brushed against it. They both moaned at the feel. Gods, her skin was so soft!

He stroked around her areola in slow circles with his index finger as his mouth and tongue continued to both entice and be seduced. He could feel her heart slamming against his palm and knew her desire for him was genuine. When he flicked, then pinched her nipple, she cried out, jolted upwards so her shoulders were off the table and grabbed onto him fiercely. She bit his bottom lip, then moved to his neck and lightly bit him over his pulse point. He gasped then growled, loving the feel of her being so out of control.

He came to his senses seconds before he was about to unclasp her bra. Taking a deep breath and pushing her back down flat against the desk, he drew away from her, panting hard. "Granger, we need to stop now," he cautioned softly in her ear, and moved to disentangle the death lock she maintained around his neck.

Slowly, she released him, her eyes glazed over with passion, her lips and cheeks scarlet. "Why?" she whispered, and that was almost his undoing. He closed his eyes to the surge of lust that roared through him.

"Because you wanted to take it slow," he reminded them both. "And losing your virginity on a table in the library in a hurried rush would be something you'd regret." He grinned teasingly. "I'd forever be remembered as that heartless Malfoy bastard who fucked you all wrong your first time."

Common sense bled back into her dazed expression suddenly. "You're… right… of course. I'm sorry… sorry for pushing you, Draco."

He dropped his forehead down on top of hers, looking at her through the fringe of his hair and lashes. "Granger, you have nothing to apologize for. _I'm_ the one who followed you in here." He kissed the tip of her nose. "My fault. Sorry."

Her brows dropped in questioning. "Why _did_ you come here anyway?"

He sighed. Time to get serious again. He stood up and pulled her with him until she was back on her feet. She began readjusting her bra under her sweater, and he tried really hard not to look, afraid of a repeat pounce that wouldn't stop this time.

"I need to know: how public do you want us to be, Granger?"

Brilliant witch that she was, Hermione understood immediately. "This has to do with Teddy's warning. Someone from Slytherin intends on finding out who you're seeing so they can spread the gossip around, right?"

Draco looked at her seriously. "Listen, Granger, _I _have no problems whatsoever with anyone knowing about us. I don't have any doubts about our deal." He moved away slightly, putting space between them, just in case things got ugly suddenly. He didn't know which way she would go on this issue, so he was preparing himself for the worst. "But I think you don't feel the same way. Am I right?"

She surprised him utterly when she shook her head negatively. "I had a feeling this issue might come up, so I've actually had time to think about it since last week." She reached over and took his hands. "No, I don't mind it if everyone knows, Draco. I'm not ashamed of us." She stepped back into his personal space. "I've spent years worrying about other people's impressions of me, but you know what? People are going to believe whatever it is they're predisposed to think anyway. I can't change their minds, and I shouldn't allow them to change mine either. We're adults now, not kids anymore, and the war is over. We're free to be whomever we wish. It's time to stop worrying about things that are out of our control. So, to fly with what anyone else thinks. Either they'll understand or they won't." On tiptoe, she reached up and kissed him gently on the lips. "I've given myself permission to have you for these eight weeks, Draco Malfoy. And I don't regret our deal either."

Dumbfounded was the best word to describe how he felt at that moment. This was the last thing he'd expected. He'd expected her to cry and deny him, to explain away her embarrassment at being his – what was she exactly, a friend with benefits? His girlfriend? - as being too difficult to rectify with the prejudices of her goody-good friends and family. The extremely cynical side of his personality had even expected them to call it all off tonight. Instead, he was getting exactly what he wanted: Hermione Granger with no strings attached and no emotional baggage to ruin the trip.

He really was the luckiest bastard on the planet, wasn't he?

With a smile of relief, he reached up and cupped her cheek. "So, it's okay if people see us together talking, touching, or kissing?"

Hermione nodded. "I wouldn't mind."

"Good," he approved, and then he laid a huge kiss on her to seal the deal.

* * *

**CHAPTER SIX: DAYDREAM BELIEVER**

_**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland**_

_**Monday, November 3, 1997 **_

Monday morning would forever be remembered in the hallowed halls of the school as the day a miracle occurred: a Slytherin and a Gryffindor "came out" together. Hermione was half convinced the story might even appear in _Hogwarts: A History_ someday.

She was sitting at breakfast, talking with Harry, Ron, Lavender and Ginny when she felt the aura of an outside presence at her side. Looking up, she was surprised to see Draco standing over her. "Got a minute, Granger?" he asked with a mischievous smirk on his face. Deep in her gut, somehow Hermione knew that she was looking at trouble immediately. She excused herself from her friends, all of whom were watching Malfoy a little warily, but who didn't seem inclined to protest his presence quite yet, and she followed him around to the top of Gryffindor's table near the front of the room.

"Hey," he greeted her, that same troublemaking smile on his face. "I wondered if we could test a theory I have?"

She internally sighed, knowing what Malfoy was about even before he opened his mouth. Still, she was curious to hear what he'd come up with as a ruse to get her to kiss him publicly, so she silently stared up at him and waited for the punch line.

He crossed his arms and sat back on his heels with that patented, infuriating arrogance plastered all over his face, looking down his nose at her. "See, my theory is this: I think Gryffindor's infamous courage is all a sham. I think your House bravery is highly over exaggerated, and that it won't hold up under intense scrutiny." He faux buffed his nails on his chest and appeared to be inspecting them as he continued on with his pitch. "Of course, I'll need to test that hypothesis before I publish it. It wouldn't do to have my brilliant finding later retracted by some puffed up editor." He glanced over at her with a challenge in his winter grey eyes that was hard to ignore. "So, I've come to _you _for help, Granger. You see, you're absolutely _vital_ for my research, as you're the only Gryffindor female I'd consider a worthy test partner. I figure that's something you can appreciate." He grinned conceitedly. "So, what do you say? In the name of scientific discovery, can I count on you to help me prove or disprove my theory, Granger?"

Con job or not, such a level of sheer, clever audacity was hard _not _to admire. She had to give it up to Draco for being such a sneaky bastard. He was most definitely a snake through and through.

And she was a lion.

"My advise to you, Malfoy, is to put your money where your mouth is," she growled, and without a second thought, she grabbed the lapels of his robes rather abruptly, pulled him towards her, leaned up on tiptoe and kissed him somewhat aggressively in front of everyone.

To say the entire room went instantly quiet would be an understatement. You could have dropped a quill and heard the feather hit the floor – it was _that_ silent.

Hermione felt her cheeks aflame with blood and heat. Gads, was she – proper, reserved Hermione Granger - really doing this in front of the whole school? Yes, apparently, she was… and… and… well, _bully for her_! She wouldn't let other people's opinions scare her anymore! She wanted this! Besides, she intended on proving Draco's "theory" was utter trash. Gryffindors were bold and valorous, and she was 'Red and Gold' to the core. She held onto that conviction to see her through the awkward moment.

When Draco's arms came around her and he leaned into the kiss with fire and passion of his own, the tense silence suddenly erupted into a cacophony of noise. There were gasps of surprise, some shouts of outrage, but there was also a lot of whistling, clapping and urgings on by her fellow classmates – especially the boys. Apparently, the idea of "Team D-H" wasn't necessarily unexpected… which said a lot about how much things had changed since the war had ended.

When he finally pulled away, he stared down at her with something akin to admiration. "Fiery _and_ plucky," he murmured. "Guess my theory's down the loo, huh?"

She grinned haughtily. "Flushed out to sea, I'm afraid."

He laughed and bent back down for a second go and she slid her arms up around his neck and melted against him, unconcerned with the onlookers anymore, barely hearing the cheers that egged them on.

Hermione floated on air as Draco joined her at Gryffindor's table a few minutes later. When he intentionally sat himself directly across from Harry, though, her smile dropped, and she began to worry that someone would end up having to call Madam Pomfrey over before long.

To her surprise, her best friend took a few moments to simply stare at Malfoy, then at her. His green eyes were piercing, considering, mulling, but she held up under the scrutiny. Then, Harry merely nodded at Draco and turned to Ginny and kept talking as if nothing were amiss. Although the two had never been friends, and their enmity was infamous, the war had also altered Harry's feelings about his bitterest rival apparently, too. It was thanks to Draco, in fact, that they'd gotten any information at all about the last two Horcruxes – Nagini and Harry, himself. Without that intelligence, the Order never would have been able to formulate the plan that saw them on the offense against Voldemort, who'd been holed up in the Riddle's ancestral home. Perhaps having put himself at great personal risk to stop the Dark Lord had been enough to erase all negative feelings on Harry's side for Malfoy. It certainly seemed that way.

Ron, however, was another matter entirely. He loathed Draco more than Harry ever had. The reasons where never completely elucidated, since Malfoy had _always_ shot equal amounts of venom at her ginger-haired friend as he had at Harry. She suspected it had something to do with them both being from Pureblood families, but she could never quite put her finger on the exact reason.

"Hermione, what the hell do you think you're doing?" Ron demanded in a vicious hiss, his eyes narrowed and hateful at Draco.

As calmly as possible, she stared off against her ex-boyfriend. "What does it look like I'm doing, Ronald?"

His jaw ticked in righteous fury. "You _can't_ be serious."

She raised a challenging eyebrow at him, her anger starting to stir in her breast. "I am. So, what of it?"

Ron was struggling to control the outburst behind his face. Next to him, Lavender took his arm, her face not only concerned, but clearly more than a little upset that her boyfriend would be this angry about an ex-girlfriend. Hermione felt a little sorry for her housemate, even though they didn't get on.

"But… he's… it's… _Malfoy_!" he sneered.

Peeved that Ron would behave with such vehemence, Hermione grit her teeth. "That's right, he's Draco Malfoy. Again, I ask you: _what of it_?"

To his credit, Draco said nothing, knowing this was her fight. He simply stared across the distance at Ron and smirked in amusement. Knowing this was not making things easier, she reached over and took her – was he her boyfriend now? – her _guy's_ hand and squeezed it to let him know that he wasn't helping any. His eyes slid her way and he gave her a raised eyebrow over the same smirk. She rolled her eyes, knowing she wasn't going to be able to change him. Draco was a rascal at heart, and oh, how he loved to get Ronald Weasley's wand in a knot.

She turned back to her friend, taking that tone she reserved especially for him when he was behaving like a total prat. "Really, Ron, even though we're best friends, I would _never_ assume to dictate to you the particulars of your private life. At least show me the same courtesy."

Ron pointed an accusing finger across the table at Malfoy, whose smirk became positively evil in response. "This git only cares about only one person, Hermione: himself. You know that. You're settin' yourself up for hurt."

She sighed and shrugged nonchalantly. "Then that's my business, isn't it? And I would appreciate it if you would refrain from insulting Draco, especially in my presence. Furthermore, I don't need you to protect me. I've always been quite adept at taking care of myself - and others - in case it escaped your notice, Ronald."

Her inference was not lost on her ex-, who had been saved more than once by Hermione's quick thinking. He blanched and his lips tightened into a firm scowl, and he appeared as if he wanted to argue some more. It was Harry, however, who finally put a stop to the bickering by placing a hand on their red-headed friend's extended arm and pushing it down gently, but firmly. "'Mione's right, Ron. She's not a kid anymore. She's more than capable of handling her own affairs."

She turned to her dark haired best friend with gratitude. "Thank you, Harry. At least _someone_ here seems to understand the concept of trust."

"It's not really you I have a problem trusting, Hermione," Ron grumbled, but backed off, dropping his arm down, and leaning back into Lavender, much to the blonde girl's obvious relief.

There was a long, pregnant pause between them all before Ginny broke the spell. "Well, I don't know about you smocks, but I've got class to get to." She gathered up her satchel onto her shoulder and stood. "Walk me to class, Harry?" she asked, holding her hand out for her boyfriend to take. He seemed happy to be leaving the scene of trouble, and gathered his things quickly, gripping Ginny's hand in his firmly. Hermione gave him a thankful smile on his way past, and he returned it with a nod.

Next to her, Draco reached for a scone before standing to leave as well. "I left my bag at my table," he explained to her, then bent at the waist and pressed a kiss on her cheek. "Wait up. I'll walk with you."

She nodded and he strutted off back to his vacated spot at Slytherin's table. When he got there, she noted that he was instantly glommed onto by Blaise and Pansy, each taking an arm and dragging him down to the bench where they assaulted him for information openly. Hermione turned back to her plate to finish up her last few bites of pancakes. She waited for Ron to say something, but he wisely kept his mouth shut, probably at the silent urging of his girlfriend at his side. Finally, Lavender stood and dragged him up with her.

"Well… see you later, Hermione," she stated, clutching her book bag to her side and tugging Ron off after her. He grunted some sort of a 'see you' before leaving, which was at least a marginal step in the right direction.

She'd just finished the last of her breakfast and was swallowing when Draco rejoined her. He held a hand out for her to take, which she did, and he pulled her up. He then reached past her and grabbed her bag from her left shoulder, and swung it over his own to lie atop his dark green leather satchel. Possessively, he gripped her hand and together they walked out of the Great Hall, making their way down into the dungeons.

As they walked in a comfortable silence, Hermione slid her glance over to the tall blond at her side. Draco continually amazed her with the gimmicks he pulled, especially this term, but truthfully, she rather liked that unpredictable outrageousness as it shook her neatly ordered world up a bit (which was exactly what she'd been secretly craving since the end of the war). What had happened a few minutes ago in the dining hall… well, that was yet another example of how much fun she could have with Malfoy. In fact, this agreement was turning out to be one of the best things she'd ever done.

Thinking back on their shared public kiss made her blush. That outlandish spontaneity would most definitely rank up there amongst her most lunatic moments. Surely things couldn't get any wilder than what they'd just done!

If only she'd known how wrong she was…

Draco partnered with Hermione in Potions Lab, and together they made a Chuffing Draught that was worthy of Slughorn's praise. Across the table from them, Teddy nodded in congratulations, and then received his own noteworthy admiration from their Professor for his and Seamus' combined efforts. The four of them were released early from class, tasked to take the vials of the draught up to Madam Pomfrey for her use once they'd cleaned up their prospective messes.

After making their deliveries to the Medi-Witch, Seamus headed off back to Gryffindor's Common Room. Teddy stuck around all the way back to the stairwell. "I'm going to study," his best friend commented almost off-hand. "I have some reading I'd like to get ahead on." He threw a rather odd glance at Granger then, almost a challenge of sorts, and with a 'see you later' over his shoulder, his long legs strode rapidly ahead of them and he started climbing the stone stairs up a level to the library.

Next to him, Hermione sighed. "I really should study as well." She slipped her hand out of Draco's, and reached out to remove her bag from his shoulder.

"You're always studying, Granger," Draco shot back, and stepped back out of her reach. "We've got two and a half hours until the next class." He took her hand once more and started walking up the stairs to the fifth floor.

"Where are we going? What are you doing?" she asked, suddenly concerned, struggling to keep up with his longer stride.

Yes, what _was_ he doing? He wasn't sure. All he knew was that the kiss they'd shared this morning in the dining hall and their little interlude at the library on Saturday had enflamed him, and made him crave more of her. They got to her bedroom door and he pushed her against the wall rougher than he'd wanted to and kissed her hard. Within seconds, her arms were gripping him tightly back. He pulled his head away with just enough sense to make his demand. "Open the door, Granger."

She did, and they fell upon each other as soon as the solid oak panel shut behind him. Dropping their bags almost simultaneously, he backed her to the couch and they flopped down onto it. He pressed her back into the cushions and kissed her until they were both insensible.

After more than half an hour, they finally broke apart and he braced himself on his arms, looking down at her. The room was dimly lit from the small curtained window near the bed, and half her face was cast in shadow. Still, even in the semi-darkness, he could see that her eyes were imploring him for more. He'd wanted to wait, but…

Sitting up, he pulled her with him, then knelt by the couch and removed her shoes and then his own. He took his customary seat leaning against the couch's high-backed arm and snuggled her into his preferred position between his legs, her back against his chest. He wrapped his arms about her and pressed his nose into her neck and inhaled his favorite scent in the whole world. "You drive me barmy, woman," he told her, nuzzling her ear and breathing hotly upon her neck. "I can't get enough of you."

She tilted her neck, giving him access. "No one's ever told me that before," she admitted shyly. "It feels nice… to know I'm wanted like that."

He scoffed, and looked at her over her shoulder. "Serious? Not even Krum, McLaggen or Weasley?" He'd listed off her three previously known beaus, assuming that was the entirety of the list (she'd hinted at being grossly inexperienced in the greenhouse, but everyone in school knew of at least the three men she'd "dated" once upon a time).

She shook her head. "I only went to the Yule Ball with Viktor. We never went out after that. Honestly, he was nice, but… there wasn't enough chemistry there on my side. I was mostly flattered that someone of his reputation was interested in me at all." She sighed. "McLaggen… that leech. I took him to Slughorn's Christmas party last year only to get a rise out of Ron, but it didn't work. And I spent the whole night dodging my date because he couldn't keep his bloody hands to himself. When he graduated in June I wanted to cheer from the highest arm in the yard. The man is vile." She bit her lip, and then dove ahead with the last of her gentlemen interests. "And Ron… Everyone kept telling me how good we would be as a couple, but the reality was that we _weren't_ good together. We only went out for a couple of weeks, and we never got anywhere because we were too busy fighting all the time. And it just didn't feel right, anyway, wanting him romantically. He was more like a brother than a boyfriend." She turned her head and looked between her lashes at him. "When you and I ran into each other this last summer… that was the first time I'd ever really looked at a boy like _that_."

Draco felt his arrogant grin overtake his face and couldn't help himself. She sniffed in annoyance at his superciliousness. "Seriously, Malfoy, what did you expect? What little you were wearing… You _wanted_ girls to notice. I couldn't help it."

He laughed uproariously. "I could say the same, Granger. That skimpy, little bikini was _hot_." He trailed his fingers lightly down to her thighs and he began inching her skirt higher up on her legs centimeter by agonizing centimeter as he spoke ardently against her ear. "Even though we were in the middle of all those people, I wanted so badly to tug the thin straps on your shoulders down so I could see your naked breasts. Your whole middle was bared, and I never realized how tight your abs were until that day. And those high cut bottoms showed off the curve of your hips deliciously. When you turned about, your arse swayed back and forth sexily. I nearly ran after you just so I could keep watching you walk away." He stopped moving the fabric of her uniform just before her knickers peeked out, and left his fingers resting on her bared thighs. "The memory of that day turned me on so much that I've spent nearly every day since thinking about it."

He closed his lips on her earlobe, and she gasped as he began gently suckling on it. Then, he trailed wetly down her neck, stopping over her pulse and nipping the skin lightly. He tongued a trail back up to her ear, and flicked the skin around her shell, finally settling back over her lobe. By the time he'd finished, she was shivering in his arms. "I've touched myself a lot to the memory of you, Hermione," he admitted. "I've made myself come over and over thinking about you naked under me." His hands that had rested passively on her legs began rubbing sensuous circles up and down from her knees to her thighs, slipping under her skirt again to caress all the way up to her hips, roaming over the edges of her panties. "Do you ever touch yourself?"

She began shivering in noticeable apprehension.

"Do you?" he pressed gently, his fingers delicately brushing across her skin. "Tell me true."

She bit her lip - the telltale sign of her anxious nervousness, he'd come to understand – and nodded slightly, and he could literally feel her heart pick up the pace a bit against his chest as she confessed her dirty, little secret to him. "Yes, only over my knickers, though," she admitted. "I've done it a few times."

"Have you ever come?" he pursued, intentionally lowering his voice into a mild hush so she would be soothed. He wanted her to rightly believe that her private confession would forever remain just between the two of them.

She shook her head. "Just… touched. It felt good, but…"

"Too naughty?" he supplied when she couldn't finish.

She nodded again.

"Do you want to try again?" he asked, stopping his hands on the inside of her thighs. "Just over your panties. I can teach you how to please yourself so you'll finish."

Against his back, he could feel Hermione's heart slamming now under her ribs, and he knew she was both terrified and exhilarated by what they were doing. Her hands went over his, keeping him in place, as she dangled over the precipice, undecided.

"You'll love it," he promised sinfully.

Still, she hesitated, obviously scared.

"Trust me with this, Granger," he supplicated, "and you'll find out how good it can be."

"You won't… think I'm a… _slag_, will you?" she asked, trembling, cringing over the nasty word.

He shook his head firmly. "No, I won't. You're the furthest thing from, Hermione." He pressed a chaste kiss to her temple. "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone. And I won't think any differently of you if we do this right now." His right hand turned and readjusted over hers, then began moving them together slowly up towards her crotch, flipping the skirt up and out of the way at the same time. He rested them above her covered mound. "This feels so good," he assured her. "It's the best feeling in the whole world. You'll see."

She nodded, and gave herself over to what he was about to teach her, relaxing into him. Such trust… No other girl he'd ever been with had been this unquestionably pure. It made him feel protective and possessive of her all at once.

"Spread your legs a little wider," he bid and she complied. He shoved his knees under hers and pushed them up and out slightly. Then, took her fingers in his and traced them up and down over her panties, finding the slit and pressing in slightly. "Lesson three," he whispered in her ear. "How to please yourself. Don't be afraid of wanting to feel good." He pressed her finger in deeper and pushed her folds to the side through her knickers. "Mmmm… you're already damp," he commented and hummed appreciatively. "You'll need to be wetter once you do this without the panties, though, to keep it from hurting. Just keep stroking here, like this." He moved her finger up to the top of her thatch and pressed her hand down on her covered clitoris, then rubbed in circles, increasing the pressure as the minutes ticked by. Hermione moaned at the wonderful feel.

He wanted to work her up so she was out of control, so he pushed a little bit more. "Close your eyes now, and tell me one of your favorite sexual fantasies."

Her breathing picked up but she did close her eyes, he noted, watching her over her shoulder. She bit her lip again, so he pressed a kiss to her cheek, then to the corner of her mouth, slipping his tongue out to caress her teeth and bottom lip. "Tell me what turns you on," he pleaded in a whisper. "Tell me, baby. Just between you and me."

It took her a moment longer before she could voice anything, she was so obviously nervous, but finally, she succumbed. "I'm… I'm in one of the classrooms on my rounds. The door shuts behind me and… I know I'm not alone." She paused and bit her lip again, and he watched as the color bloomed on her cheeks vibrantly.

"Mmmm… tell me more." He intentionally used his voice as a weapon to disarm her, wanting her to give up some of her hard won control. It was essential for her to drop her repressive defenses so she could really enjoy this. "_Please_, Hermione_._"

She swallowed. "I… I lower my wand and extinguish the light," she continued tentatively. "I can't see his face, because it's so dark, but I don't feel threatened. Somehow, I know he won't hurt me. I turn towards the door, but as I reach for the handle, he grabs me from behind."

"Like I did to you in the greenhouse," he reminded her.

She nodded. "And… and he starts breathing against my neck, and then kisses my throat."

Draco dipped his mouth to her skin to mimic the actions she was describing, making her fantasy suddenly real in her mind. She let out a soft gasp in reaction. "Go on," he encouraged. "What did I do to you then?" That he'd automatically inserted himself into her imagined fancy as the mysterious, faceless man made this experience much more arousing suddenly for both of them. He felt it in the way her breathing picked up, and as his cock hardened in his pants. Gods, this was the most erotic thing he'd ever done in his life!

She took a deep breath and continued. "You… you move me so I'm leaning over the Professor's desk, my back still to you. You place my hands out in front of me and tell me to leave them there..."

"How do you feel about that?" he interrupted. "Knowing it's me telling you what to do? Almost demanding you to do as I say?" he asked as his lips ran over her sensitive skin on her throat. Her answer to this question was very important, and would set the tone for their future interludes, so he paid very serious attention to her response and body language.

She swallowed again and he saw the tip of her pink tongue peek out quickly to lick her lips. "I'm a little frightened and angry by it, but… I don't want to leave because… because in this case, I don't mind… because it's _you_."

Draco's smile stretched across his face. So, his little Siren was a dominant by nature, who secretly wanted to be a submissive in bed - which is exactly what he'd assumed of her personality even before today. And apparently she already trusted him not to hurt her. Good to know.

"I knew you would be like that, Hermione," he whispered, rubbing his nose slowly up her jaw line. "That you'd want to be out of control sometimes. That you'd want to give in to things that are a little naughty. You _want_ me to take you there, don't you?"

Hesitantly, she nodded. "Yes. That's why… why I chose to be with you, Draco. Because… I know… you'll give me those things. You'll give me what I want."

He moaned as the visual of her naked and orgasming under him flashed before his eyes once more, and he silently promised her that he would do that for her. He would make her _scream_ in desire. He would give her such sexual freedom that she'd eventually come to him and not be afraid to dominate him whenever she wanted. And he'd love it when she finally made it to that level. The thought of _her_ fucking _him_ at her own instigation… He sucked hard on her collarbone, and left a bruising love bite on purpose, his first mark on her. More would come in time. He would cover her with his brandings soon…

"You were leaning against the desk, me behind you," he reminded her. "What did I do to you then?" He watched her draw her bottom lip between her teeth a third time, but he didn't back down, knowing she wanted this as much as he did. He coaxed her answer out of her by licking a path up and down her throat again. "What do you want me to do to you, Hermione?" he whispered hotly against her earlobe. "I'll do whatever you ask."

Taking the plunge, she told of his removal of her knickers, of him lifting her skirt and bending her over further, and then how he'd entered her from behind.

"Do you want me to take you fast or slow, baby?" he asked, wanting to know for future reference. He had every intention of living out this fantasy with her as soon as they'd started having sex in a few weeks.

"Slow, at first," she admitted as he dug their fingers together against her clit, eliciting another moan from her. "Then faster. I want you to take me until I can't think anymore, and all I can feel is you inside of me." She started shaking again. "Godric, I… _I want you_, Draco. I want this to be real."

"It will be," he promised her. "Soon."

When he moved her fingers back up and down her slit then, they could both feel that her panties were very wet. "Soaking," he smiled approvingly against her ear. "Just right." He tugged her left hand under her button-up shirt, slowly moving up to caress her stomach and then over her chest. "Touching your breasts at the same time makes you come harder," he explained, tugging down the side of her bra to expose her left breast to their combined fingers. "Rub your nipples. The pressure will send you over in no time."

He moved both of her hands over her body expertly, the one under her shirt, the other between her legs, teaching her how to please herself in a safe way, and the power trip he rode throughout the instruction was heady and addictive. He felt his shaft pulsing with need, and knew he'd have to take care of himself later when he was alone, otherwise he'd be aching all day.

As Hermione approached her climax, her legs began quavering uncontrollably and panting breaths were drawn sharper from her lungs. "Merlin… Draco…" she moaned, hanging her head forward, pressing them both harder on clit, her eyes squeezed tightly shut as she crested what he knew would be a powerful wave of pleasure.

"Come for me, Hermione," he commanded, watching her over her shoulder, wanting to imprint the moment of her very first orgasm forever in his mind. "Let yourself go."

When it happened, her knees pressed tightly together, her whole body tensed up, and then she threw her head far back on his shoulder, thrusting her breasts out at the same time. Her face transposed into acute ecstasy between one breath and the next; her wet, pink lips parted in a cry of pleasure, her eyelids shuddered once, and blood suffused her face. "_OH,_ _DRACO!_" she shouted his name loudly as her body quaked from head to toe with raw, unfettered feelings.

It was the most beautiful orgasm he'd ever witnessed - completely honest, unrestrained, captivating in its innocence. And _he'd_ been the one to do it with her. Granger had let him share one of her firsts again. She'd even shouted for _him_ in the end. A pleasing warmth spread throughout his center.

When the blissful satisfaction rolled away from her finally, Hermione gasped for air. With her eyes still closed, she turned her face to the side, burrowing partially into Draco's chest, apparently seeking his acceptance of what had just happened between them. He gave it to her by hugging her tightly and kissing the top of her curly head several times. She was then able to settle. "That… amazing," she managed when her heart started to slow and her breathing to even out again. "Thank you."

He chuckled. "You're welcome. Although I have to tell you that was _bloody incredible_ to be a part of, Granger."

He continued to hold her against him, willing his erection down until he was once more under control. According to the Sandkeeper on the wall, it was now eleven forty-eight. They still had an hour and twelve minutes before their next class. Plenty of time to relax.

He was just leaning deeper into the couch when her next words shot a cold spike of panic straight through his spine.

"We shouldn't do this again."

What?

Shit.

Was she serious?

"I mean, not during the middle of a school day," she qualified with a yawn (which she covered behind her hand daintily). "I want to skip the rest of my classes now and just lazy around."

A small sigh of relief escaped him before he realized he'd made such a telling mistake. He didn't want her knowing he'd practically had a heart attack from her pronouncement. He tried covering it by appearing to agree – although secretly, he didn't (he rather liked getting down with her at any time of the day or night). "You're right, of course," he tried to sound supportive. "We'll stick to doing this kind of thing during our regular nights to meet, then."

"Will you still walk with me to class?" she asked, and he knew what she was really asking: was today a fluke or would they act like a proper boyfriend and girlfriend around school? He decided to put it to her, since he already knew he didn't mind it either way.

"What do _you_ want me to do?"

She was quiet for a bit before answering. "I liked sitting with you today… well, not the Ron thing, but everything else. And I liked walking with you through the halls and partnering up. If that's not going to… um... crimp your style, then I wouldn't mind doing it again."

"All right, then." He agreed to her request easily enough. The truth was, up until that morning, Draco had never openly acknowledged a girl as his to the whole school, preferring to keep such trivial "relationships" clandestine and as short-term as possible. But in Hermione's case, he was willing to make an exception, because he was really starting to like her, despite their past and specifically because of their present. As for their future… He was sure he'd like her _a lot more_ once they got to the highly anticipated part of their agreement.

He internally sighed. It sucked that they had to come to an end by Christmas. But then, that had been her rule, and he'd agreed to it, so there was no going back. He'd just have to enjoy their time together while it lasted, and then… well, then, he'd just move on, as usual.

For some reason, that thought didn't settle well with him, though.

His internal therapist didn't get any further mental exploration time in before his stomach let them both know that it was time to head down for lunch. "Apparently, I'm starved," he snickered. "Let's go down and eat."

Hermione reluctantly agreed and he pushed her skirt back down over her thighs, giving her skin one last stroke with his fingers for tactile memory's sake, and then sat them both up. Her eyes were languid, her face absolutely contented, a silly smile aligning her lips. Her hair was slightly mussed, too, so he smoothed it down.

"You look like you just got the shag of your life, Granger," he teased.

She slapped his hand away playfully and went into the bathroom to freshen up. When she came back out, her eyes were once more sharp, and her hair neatly braided back. They put their shoes on and grabbed up their bags from the floor. On the way out the door, however, Hermione grabbed him and laid a big Frenchy on him. They spent the next ten minutes tangled with each other against the wall before his stomach's second loud protest made them both chuckle and pull away.

Dipping her head out the door, Hermione looked both ways to make sure the coast was clear, and then they hurried out of her room (she locked it behind with a wave of her wand) and they headed down to the dining hall together for lunch, pretending for all the world as if the last hour had simply been innocently spent.


	4. Chapters 7 and 8

**CHAPTER SEVEN: YOURS AND MINE**

_**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland**_

_**Wednesday, November 5, 1997 – Thursday, November 6, 1997**_

Teddy sat with Draco and Hermione during Herbology Lecture-Lab that morning, and the three worked on Bladderworts, carnivorous plants that captured their prey with the use of an inflatable bag organ. Currently, they were dissecting the largest, and most dangerous, of the species: _Utricularia_ _triffidus_, a rare, beautiful purple flower that resembled an Asiatic orchid, but was about the size of a cantaloupe.

"_U. triffidus_ are voracious killers, known best for their uncanny ability to walk across water on their three mandible-like legs to get at its food," Professor Sprout explained as she ambled down the rows between the greenhouse tables, her crazy pointed hat marking her passage to and fro. The woman carefully watched her students cut up and examine the plants in question. "Using a poison barbed whip to first sting and then draw in prey, _triffidus_ typically captures and digests approximately a dozen small fish and songbirds a week. Tribal rumors even tell of swarms of the plants working in accord using a series of clicks to communicate attack patterns to assault rural human villages, although no direct evidence has ever been presented to correlate these oral traditions." She dramatically leaned her face in between Hermione and Teddy's shoulders, her expression severe, her voice affectedly spooky. "Very dangerous buggies, nonetheless! Not to be taken lightly!" She continued around the end of the row and kept walking back the way she'd come. "Their poison, however, is invaluable in curing a variety of magical maladies…"

"Like what?" Teddy asked aloud, his curiosity piqued at the word "cure."

He could feel Hermione's eyes on him, but concentrated on cutting through a sticky, fibrous stalk, refusing to meet her gaze so openly. He was feeling particularly vulnerable this morning after a restless night of dreams, all having to do with the woman he loved – who was standing mere centimeters away - being naked under him and crying out his name in pleasure.

"Well, they're a powerful restorative for the liver, spleen, and gall bladder, able to stem the tide of infection for a time," the Professor explained. "The extractions from today's class will be sent to Professor Slughorn who will brew potions from them to owl off to St. Mungo's in a few weeks."

Teddy considered that carefully. His illness was going to debilitate his organs near the end. This _triffidus_ poison might buy him some extra time, just in case things progressed faster than planned. He'd have to talk to Snape about procuring him some of the potions from Slughorn before they made their way out to the hospital in London.

"You okay?" Hermione whispered, indicating the section of plant that Teddy had apparently mutilated. He'd been so caught up in his own thoughts that he hadn't realized that he'd been slicing the same wet cellulose over and over again, until now it was a pulpy mush. He actually felt his cheeks heat with embarrassment.

"Um… Sorry, I wasn't paying attention."

"That's not like you," Draco commented in a murmur that was low enough for only the three of them to hear. His calculating grey eyes were narrowed in thought. "You all right, bro? You've been looking pretty beat lately."

Teddy shrugged it off and gave them the same lie he'd told Blaise the other day. Neither his friend, nor Hermione seem convinced, however.

"Was it just the one headache, or have you had them before?" she probed in a hushed tone. "It's just that I've noticed you've been washed out the last few times I've seen you, too."

Inwardly, Teddy swore. He hated lying, but he didn't want either Hermione or Drake to worry. Besides, his illness was somewhat of a private nature, and he didn't really want to share the particulars of the slow erosion of his body with anyone. It was bad enough Snape, Dumbledore, Pomfrey and McGonagall knew (not to mention most of the staff of St. Mungo's and his mum), but to see the inevitable pity in either of his friends' eyes… that would unman him. So, he mentally crossed his fingers and continued fibbing. "Too much homework, not enough sleep. Same thing we're all going through probably."

Draco's eyes constricted even further in clear suspicion. "That didn't answer her question," he pointed out.

Teddy sighed. "It's stress, that's all. But I'll go see Madam Pomfrey after Defense Against the Dark Arts later today, okay? Snape would be furious if I missed, even if it was because of being in hospital."

Hermione's hand unexpectedly laid itself tenderly across his and a jolt shot straight into Teddy's gut at the touch. "Do you promise?" she asked, clearly worried, biting her lower lip.

She was really concerned for him! Teddy looked up into her brown and gold flecked eyes, trying to keep his voice and gaze steady while inside quelling the little jig that was going on in his stomach. "Yeah, I'll go."

That assurance seemed to ease them both markedly, and the matter dropped, much to Teddy's relief. The three then worked hard to fix the damaged _triffidus_ stem and to complete their assignment on time, but still only managed an 'E' for the day's work after finishing up last in class.

When they left Herbology, they took lunch together in the Great Hall, and this time, Hermione sat with Draco at Slytherin's table at the furthest end, across from Teddy. They talked about the next Quidditch match – the second last of the season until spring – in which Slytherin would be playing against Ravenclaw (a week later, Gryffindor would take on Hufflepuff in the term's final match-up). "The Silver Snakes" had already beat "The Black Badgers" in mid-October, but "The Golden Lions" had taken down "The Screaming Eagles" a week earlier, so Gryffindor and Slytherin were tied at the moment according to the point spread. Draco was hoping his team would take the cup this year – a first for Slytherin in over eight seasons – and he was hoping his final game of his Hogwarts career would pit him against Potter, too, so he was intent upon winning against Ravenclaw to get a possible shot at Gryffindor come end of May. It would seem that some rivalries would never die in the heart, regardless of an open call for truce.

The meal was spent comfortably, and Teddy had an opportunity to observe Drake and Hermione interact like a "normal" couple for the first time. They seemed to get on spectacularly, their temperaments, wit and intelligence a good match even when they disagreed on a point. Once or twice, they passed secret longing looks, but thankfully, they weren't overly obnoxious about such things, as new couples often had the habit. They also included Teddy in their conversation smoothly, as if they were an honest-to-Merlin troika, instead of a duo plus one unfortunate tagalong. For the first time in weeks, Teddy found himself opening up and feeling a little lighthearted. It was nice to be in the presence of two people he loved, whom he previously thought irreconcilable.

After lunch, the three went in separate directions, Hermione off to her two-hour N.E.W.T.s Prep Lecture with Professor McGonagall, Draco out to the Quidditch pitch for his weekly Wednesday practice (until the season ended for this term, that was), and Teddy off to Snape's D.A.D.A. class.

As he walked alone towards the First Floor classrooms, dodging the throng of robes headed every which way for afternoon lessons, Teddy thought about what had happened that morning and again at lunch, and had to caution himself. He was still very much an outsider to Hermione's world; the awkward "fifth wheel" in a "two person maximum" relationship. It wouldn't do to get too close and comfortable with such intimacies as they'd just shared only to later be shut down when she and Drake took off alone together. He'd end up constantly broken hearted if he didn't watch himself.

He decided that he'd have to just be more careful, keep a discreet distance. Granger was his friend, and nothing more. He kept telling himself that over and over again, even as the lingering feel of her fingers on his hand remained fresh in his mind.

Wednesday night's "appointment" with Draco started out very similarly to their very first "date." He came into Hermione's room, and they hugged. He kissed her gently, but pulled away before things could get any hotter. Then he removed his shoes and socks and sat on the couch, prompting her to do the same. This time, she brought the water and snacks over to the small end table for them, and joined him, also removing her shoes and socks. They sat in their favorite reclining position, and easily picked up their previous game of telling secrets to each other.

"Ever thought about a girl sexually?" Malfoy asked her spontaneously, grinning and waggling his eyebrows suggestively at her over her shoulder.

She blew hair out of her face with playful exasperation and shook her head. "No, you're the only person I've ever considered in that way before. Remember?" She raised a challenging eyebrow at him and smirked. "Have _you _ever considered a boy sexually?" she dared to ask.

He paused, exhaled. "Yes," he admitted, clearly uncomfortable with the question, but effectively trapped into telling the truth, since it had been his opening question that started it all. "When I hit puberty the summer after Second Year, I had a couple of wet dreams about a friend. That was the extent of it, though." He cleared his throat, very embarrassed. "My turn again," he stated promptly, switching subjects in an obvious attempt to prevent any further mortification on his part. "Can you cast any really difficult spells? I mean, aside from the ones we learn in classes."

She thought about it. "I can do the Patronus charm."

He nodded, obviously impressed. "Advanced magic."

"Can you do it?" she asked him, curious.

He shrugged nonchalantly. "Yeah."

She turned around on her hip and looked over at him, sincerely interested. "What shape does yours take?"

He grinned cheesy. "Guess."

She measured him. "Hmmm… It's supposed to reflect your true soul." She made a moue with her mouth, and tried her hand at speculating. "A large cat of some kind." He shook his head, but was apparently immensely flattered by the way he seemed to puff up a bit.

She thought about it some more. "A shark."

He laughed, his face now reflecting a bit of offense. "Nope. One more chance."

She grew exasperated. "A snake's too obvious, but I'll go with it."

"Not even close," he teased. "Here, I'll show you."

Wriggling his arm out from under her, he sprawled his long limbs over and up so he was standing. He picked his wand up off the end table when he'd left it for safekeeping earlier, and mentally took a moment to apparently conjure a happy thought. Hermione sat up, entranced with what he was doing. Draco was a rather powerful wizard, she knew from their classes together and the fact that he was in the top ten students in their grade. She knew he'd mastered the art of Occlumency (as taught to him by his mad Aunt Bella after taking the Dark Mark, but before he'd actually switched sides in the war), and from his time with the Order, she also knew he could proficiently cast the _Protean_ Charm, two of the three Unforgivables (_Cruciatus_ and _Imperius_), and was able to cast flawlessly non-verbal and even a few simple wandless spells – especially those meant to block jinxes. So it was with little surprise that he produced his Patronus easily for her with a flick of his wrist.

"_Expecto Patronum_."

White myst shot out of the end of his wand and coalesced into the shape of an eagle. It screeched and flung its wings out to the side. Hermione gasped and sat up, completely captivated. "Oh, Draco, it's beautiful!" she commented in awe, watching the majestic bird soar about the room in a single lap, before Draco recalled it by ending the spell. "And it completely fits, too!"

He looked down at her and smiled, a slight blush tinting his pale cheeks. "What about yours?"

She giggled. "Mine is not so magnificent. It's rather silly, actually."

"Show me," he coaxed, and with a sigh in capitulation, she stood, gathered her wand and cast the spell for him. "Is that a… a weasel?" He sounded mildly amused as her Patronus twined its way around him playfully.

Hermione harrumphed and let the spell go. "Eurasian Otter, actually. And there are a lot of animals lumped under the Mustelid family aside from weasels, I'll have you know. Badgers and wolverines, for instance." She poked her wand at him. "So, don't' take me lightly."

Draco laughed. "Now I get why you and the red heads are such good friends."

She grumbled under her breath about obnoxious Slytherins and sat back down on the couch, twirling her wand between her fingers. "My turn again."

Draco joined her, lounging indolently back, his arms (and wand) clasped behind his head, his legs spread out straight towards the fire. "No, it's mine."

She shook her head firmly. "I asked you what your Patronus was, and then you asked me. So, that makes it my turn again." She folded her arms and looked up at him challengingly.

"Tricky witch," he complimented and gracefully yielded the floor to her. "Fine, ask away."

"What's your wand made of?"

Draco threw her a lascivious smirk and wagged his eyebrows again. "Wanna see it?"

She blushed, and cleared her throat with a prim "ahem!" before amending her statement. "I meant the one in your hand." He suppressed a laugh by pursing his lips, and she elbowed him. "Be serious."

"Okay, okay," he surrendered and casually tossed his wand onto the end table. "Hawthorn wood, unicorn hair center, ten inches. Yours?"

Hermione held hers up between them, gripping it proudly. "Vine wood, dragon heartstring center, ten and three quarters inches."

Draco hummed in thought and his brows shot down in consideration. "Interesting."

She looked over at him. "What is?"

He reached out and tentatively took her wand in his hand, asking permission first with his eyes, of course. "Vine wood represents resurrection or transformation, joy, consistency, love." He studied it carefully. "You wouldn't happen to know which dragon was used?"

"Ollivander said it was an Opaleye," she replied.

Draco smiled. "Ah, that fits. They're the most nurturing and least aggressive of the species, good at disguising themselves to avoid capture, but tough when cornered. Incredibly beautiful and rare, too. I bet you're really good with Transfiguration, Charms, and Healing with this thing."

Hermione could only nod dumbly. She had never actually researched this subject before, and was fascinated to know how Draco knew so much. "And what about Hawthorne and Unicorn hair?"

He shrugged. "'Thorn wood supposedly represents male potency, passion, cleansing or purification, strife. Unicorn hair is a strong binding material; it ups the chances of keeping spell misfires down." He handed her wand back to her. "That's some good magic you've got there, Granger. I can see why it was attracted to you when you picked it up."

She blushed hotter, and quickly put her wand down next to his on the table, realizing that Draco's sprig had certainly picked the right match as well.

"My turn again," he reminded her. When she nodded in acquiescence, he paused for a moment before trouncing ahead. "Have you ever felt anything sexual for Potter?"

To say Hermione was shocked would have been an understatement. "What? Merlin's toes, _no_! Harry's like a brother to me." Draco considered her meaningfully, doubt still flitting around the frown lines in his mouth, and she rolled her eyes and sighed. "I have never entertained the slightest thought about Harry in that way, Draco. I told you before, you're the only man I ever have. Do you want me to say it in Cantonese? Will that help you to believe me?"

His smirk was back at her last offering. "Well, sure, Granger. If you can manage it, then I'd love to hear your attempt at Chinese."

She stuck her tongue out at him. "Fink." Tucking her knees under her, she turned her body more towards him. "Change out! It's my turn once more." She bit her lip in momentary hesitation, knowing what she wanted to ask, but worried. How would he take her question? Would he answer her, or would he tell her to sod off and stomp out of the room in anger? When she remained indecisive for a few minutes, Draco nudged her with his knee.

"Just ask it, Granger. I'll tell you, whatever it is."

Bucking up her courage, she opened her mouth. "How many girls have you slept with?"

He stared at her quietly for a bit, his face serious again. The long pause told her the answer was going to be something she didn't want to hear. "Eight," he finally admitted and she felt like sinking into the floor. Maybe it _had_ been better if she'd never asked.

"If you want to know who they were, I'll tell you," he offered. "But you have to ask me directly."

Was she seriously that curious? What if it was someone she was friends with? And did this all really matter anyway? It bothered her to think it, but yes, she _really_ wanted to know who the "competition" had been, so to speak. "Okay, who… were they?" she asked, staring intently into the fire, as if the act of not looking at him would make it easier to hear the list. Her heart started pounding in her chest.

He sighed, took a deep breath and listed them off. "Pansy Parkinson, Marietta Edgecombe, Megan Jones, Anna Mirfield, Julie Parkes, Hestia and Flora Carrow, and Fay Dunbar."

Hermione's anxiety lessened considerably knowing that none of those girls were even close acquaintances, especially the Parkinson bint… Her head swung around in surprise as an unexpected thought crept into her mind. "Wait, you dated the Carrow twins? Both at the same time?"

Draco said nothing, continuing to watch her through half-lidded eyes, his expression carefully neutral. His silence was damning, though. Apparently, he _had_ fooled around with them both at once. How in Godric's beard did you actually _do_ something like that, though? Did she even want to know?

"I… see."

His warm hand gripping hers startled her, as did his sudden and powerful jerk that ended with her splayed across his lap, her face centimeters from his. "I won't be jealous of yours if you won't be jealous of mine," he offered.

But she hadn't slept with any of "hers." The tradeoff he proposed seemed decidedly in his favor, given that. Still, she nodded. "You're here with me now. That's all that matters, I suppose."

Under the hand that was supported on his chest to prevent her from falling over, she felt his heart physically beat faster. Nothing else changed about his demeanor, but she still had felt it. "Good," he said, then bent and kissed her as his arms came up around her to hold her once more.

They settled back onto the couch and talked for hours more. As Hermione listened to Draco – _really_ _listened_, not just to his words, but to his tones and even the silent pauses in the flow of conversation – she learned more about him in those few hours than she had over the last seven years. And some of her preconceived notions were unexpectedly tossed away like so much junk as well. For instance, his home life hadn't been all roses, despite his wealth and family breeding. He and his father obviously had issues, too. She hadn't gotten the nitty gritty, but the impression was left with her that Draco's respect for his father had been lessened somehow by the whole mess with the Dark Lord. She also learned that he loved his mother very much, but felt she was a little overbearing in the coddling department. It apparently hadn't occurred yet to Narcissa Malfoy that her little boy was now legally an adult.

In exchange, she bared more of her own past, talking about her various trials and tribulations through the years in dealing with Voldemort – from going after the Philosopher's Stone to the Battle in the Department of Mysteries. When she got to the part where she'd concocted the Polyjuice Potion in Second Year and had sent Harry and Ron to Draco disguised as Crabbe and Goyle, she paused, embarrassed. Malfoy was surprised by the news at first, then chuckled. "How very Slytherin of you," he simply commended, and she'd felt a little glow at his praise.

The hours passed pleasantly in this fashion, and before either of them knew it, it was well past midnight. Draco made to leave, but Hermione tugged him back down and convinced him to stay by snuggling up to his warm chest. He gave in easily enough, and soon, the two of them fell asleep together on the couch, nestling down into each other's arms.

"You awake finally?" Draco murmured against her cheek.

Hermione smiled. Hearing his drowsy voice made a silly, giddy feeling slide through her tummy. "Apparently," she admitted. "What time is it?"

"Sometime after five," he let her know, and she felt a momentary panic. As if reading her mind, he huffed and tightened his grip around her waist to keep her in place when she started to move away from him. "Calm down, it's Thursday. No classes for either of us until this afternoon."

Oh, that was right, wasn't it? Her only class today was Defense Against The Dark Arts Lecture, followed immediately by the Lab. She and Draco shared the same schedule on Thursdays, except he had a one-hour N.E.W.T. Prep Lecture immediate after D.A.D.A., she'd found out over the course of the last week. They could both afford to sleep in this morning. Instantly, she settled back down, snuggling closer.

They lay quietly for a bit, when Draco finally broke the silence. "I really liked what we did on Monday," he began cautiously. "Making you orgasm, I mean." His hand stroked down the length of her arm, causing her knees to knock together. "And I wanted to know if you wanted to do it again?"

She came fully awake then. Again? Could she? Her breath caught at the very thought of those feelings running through her once more. "You mean now?" She felt his nodding head against her neck as he pressed a light kiss to her skin. "Yes, okay," she agreed, already growing warm and tingly inside. "I'd like that."

He sat up immediately and pulled her up after him. "This time, though, I want to try it a little differently." He put two fingers under her chin and forced her to look him in the eye. "Do you trust me to know I won't hurt you, Granger?" he asked. "That what I'll do with you will only feel good?"

She nodded without hesitation. "Yes, I trust you, Draco."

A slow smirk wound its way up the side of his beautiful face and made her heart ache. He sat back against the couch, placing his feet on the ground and patted his lap. "Then hop up and face me straight on."

Scooting up on her knees, she lifted one leg and placed it on the other side of him, straddling his lap. He put his hands on her waist and guided her to sit down directly onto his pelvis. She felt his hard erection immediately pushing up against her and gasped at the sensation. He continued to watch her with those enigmatic grey eyes, a small smile on his kissable lips. "You're going to rub up against me and come that way."

Hermione's eyes widened at the thought. Rub up against… _it_?

"I'll guide your movements until you're confident enough to do it yourself," he eased her concerns and she nodded, acceding to his direction.

Her hands came up to hold onto his well muscled shoulders for balance and he squirmed his hips under her until he moved into a position that felt comfortable for them both. He flipped her skirt up, so that only her underwear and his pants separated them, and then he placed his hands gently on her bottom, and looked her in the eyes. He began slow, moving her up his length with applied pressure on her cheeks. As she slid up and across him, she gasped and jolted in response.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" he asked, and suddenly she remembered what he'd said to her in their first lesson about one of the things he liked – being talked to by his partner during sexual acts. She licked her lips, gathered her courage and tried it out.

"I'm getting wet again," she whispered, her cheeks suffusing with heat.

His eyes widened in astonishment first, but immediately they grew dark with excitement. "Is that so? Tell me more."

He was rubbing her back down his length and then pulling her back up. Her breath caught. "Little electric sparks shoot through my abdomen when you push up against me. And I'm tender here." Her hands moved from his shoulders to cup her breasts, massaging them through the fabric of her white, cotton school shirt and the white cotton and lace bra underneath. Just that little touch caused her to clench her thighs and her hips to jerk forward of their own accord, which made Draco moan.

"Damn, Granger… keep talking and don't stop moving. You're _seriously_ turning me on."

The thought of making this man under her unhinge emboldened Hermione in a way nothing else had so far. She suddenly felt powerful, looking down into his face, which was already transposed by lust. _She_ was causing this to happen to him, wasn't she? She began sliding her hips in time with his urgings, grinding herself down on him, even as her hands began unbuttoning her shirt. He watched her, completely astounded by her boldness, but to Hermione, what she was doing somehow seemed right. As the last button slid free, she slipped her shirt off her shoulders and tossed it to the floor heedlessly even as she kept moving over him.

"Shit," he swore under his breath as they both noticed her nipples straining through the fabric of her bra at the same moment. She ran her hands over them and moaned, loving the crisp feel scraping across her tender skin. "Pinch them," he commanded softly, his hands becoming more insistent, pulling her body down against his erection even as he began thrusting up against her faster and harder. "Tell me how it feels."

She complied, and gasped, feeling warm liquid rush into her panties. "Oh, god… it's… that little bit of pain… it caused me to get wetter in between my legs. And my beasts ache for more." She pinched again and threw her head back, biting her lip hard. "Merlin… they're sore, heavy. Your hands on me… they're so hot against my skin. I want them all over me, Draco. I want you to touch me and put your mouth everywhere. I want you to mark me."

"Give me your neck then," he demanded, thrusting against her briskly. She bent over him, putting both hands on the couch back on either side and tilted her neck to the left, baring her right side. He kissed her skin first, and then began sucking on her pulse, forcing her hips over him almost brutally now.

"Bite me," she begged, wanting to know how it felt for his teeth to sink down onto her. He did as she asked, and she wailed at the sensation. He used his tongue to lathe the marks, soothing them, but the desire he'd fanned in her blood was suddenly out of control. She grabbed a hold of his shoulders tightly and pumped furiously against him, reaching for her orgasm with all her might, clenching all the muscles in her hips, thighs and butt with each thrust. "Draco, please… _I want you!_"

"Baby, let go with me," he demanded, rubbing them together powerfully. He pressed forward and clamped his teeth around her breast through her bra. The fabric was so thin that she could actually feel his tongue flick out and circle her nipple, his saliva drenching the cotton thoroughly. He nipped and bit at her, marking her there, too, and the thought of belonging to someone – to _him_ – in this way brought her. "_YES!_" she screamed as she came again, thrusting one last time against him, her legs clenching him tightly, her fingernails digging into his shirt, her back arching. He groaned loudly at her reaction, grabbed her so tight that she thought she'd break in half, and then pressed his face against her breast, stifling a loud cry against her skin. His hips jerked several times and she suddenly realized that he'd just reached his own climax, too. That knowledge was exhilarating.

He held her wrapped up in his arms, his cheek pressed to her chest, trying to catch his breath afterwards. Her own hands came around his neck to finger through his silken hair as she struggled to regain composure as well. "Thank… you," she whispered again, and placed a small kiss on his temple.

He weakly laughed against her and pulled away just enough to look up at her through half-lidded, sleepy eyes. "No, thank _you_. That's the first time I've ever come like that."

Several minutes later, and after using his wand to clean himself up, Malfoy lay back on the couch with her, spooning with her once more. He slipped one leg through hers this time and snuggled his head into the crook of her neck, and within minutes, he was out for the count. Tired, she laid her cheek against his arm, which tightened automatically around her again, and drifted off contentedly in Draco's embrace.

She woke up at forty minutes past eight in the morning, according to the Sandkeeper on the wall and Hermione found that she was alone on the couch. The duvet from her bed was laid over her and a pillow was beneath her head, however. Apparently, she'd sexed herself into utter exhaustion, because she had absolutely no memory of Draco arranging for her comfort before leaving, or of his actual departure.

Smiling at the memories of last night and this morning, Hermione stretched and got up to face the day. She lingered under the shower a little too long, letting the warm water cascade over her body (she was a bit sore between her legs where she'd rubbed against Draco too hard, and extremely tender – but glowingly happy from it - on her neck and breast where he'd bit her), and reluctantly got out, dried off and dressed for the day, spraying her favorite perfume on her wrists and neck and feeling a completely new woman.

* * *

**CHAPTER EIGHT: A WRINKLE IN TIME**

_**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland**_

_**Thursday, November 6, 1997**_

Draco was whistling cheerfully when he passed through the portal into his House Common Room at twenty past eight on Thursday morning, having just left Granger still pleasantly knackered on her couch ten minutes earlier. How he could feel so happy without having actually shagged the girl simply amazed him. That he could be this patient, given his track record, further astounded. Prior to Granger, he'd have had a girl in ten different positions within a week of "dating."

If he and Hermione kept up doing what they'd just done that morning, though, he wasn't sure he wouldn't fall back into his old patterns.

As he made his way up to his dorm, he spied Pansy Parkinson quietly shutting the door to the room he shared with Zabini, Vaisey and Harper. "Morning, Drake," she addressed him quietly and smiled, the devilish look on her face loudly proclaiming that she knew he hadn't been to his own bed that night. "Back from the girlfriend's?"

He grinned, determined not to let his oldest childhood friend ruin his mood. "Maybe," he teased and gave her a light kiss on the cheek in greeting. "And how are you and Blaise? Just getting out of _his_ bed, I see."

She flung her long, dark, straight hair back over her shoulder and smiled contentedly. "That one certainly knows how to kiss, Drake. Why _didn't _you tell me that before?"

Draco hushed his laughter and played along. "Because Zabini doesn't like me talking about his special lip technique. He's afraid of patent infringement."

Pansy made an "Ah!" enlightened face, and then busted into giggles. She went all serious within seconds, however, watching him with those hawk eyes of her, switching emotions quickly to throw him off, per her style. "So, you really like the girl this time, huh?"

Draco blinked, feigning nonchalance. Friend or no, Pansy was still a Slytherin, and she wasn't called the Queen of Backbite for nothing. He shrugged. "Yeah, Granger's okay. Apparently, she's never gotten a proper snog before, much less a shag, so I did her a favor and taught her how to kiss." He rubbed his hands together in faux anticipation. "We're still warming up for the fun to come, though."

Pansy's eyebrow raised in surprise, a hard glint entering her eyes. "Then she's a virgin? And you still haven't bedded her yet? My, oh, my… will the wonders never cease."

Aside from their one sexual experiment during Fourth Year, right after the Yule Ball, Draco and Pansy had remained nothing more than friends over the years. Despite that, he sensed a little jealousy behind her last comment – a first from her – and he knew it was time to diffuse her strange envy with a little well-placed flattery. "You were still my first, Pans." He gave her his most melting smile. "No one else can say that."

Her frost thawed instantly, replaced with a boastful, triumphant smirk. "I know, Drake. I remember."

Mission accomplished – which was to keep Pansy from thinking Hermione was everyone's broom handle – he started past his ex-. "Time to get moving," he excused himself, reaching for the door handle. "Long day today. See you later in Snape's class."

"See you," Pansy hailed back and he entered his room and closed the door behind him.

Blaise was at his dresser, pulling out his clothes for the day, his finely muscled, ebony skin glistening with drying sweat. The deep nail gouges on his arms and back told of what must have been a marathon session with Pansy this morning. Draco was thankful he'd been absent for all of it; Pansy was loud and extremely verbally explicit during sex, and she could almost be heard through a _Muffliato_ spell, or so the rumors said. Looking around, he noted his other two roommates were not present, and neither of their beds looked slept in either. Man, it seemed everyone was out for a good time last night.

"Morning," he greeted Zabini with a grin. "Nice artwork."

Blaise chuckled darkly. "What can I say? I like Pans' version of 'House spirit.'" His friend threw a pair of Muggle sweats on over his dark green boxers and collected his shower gear. "You got your own set of war wounds yet?"

Draco shook his head. "Nope. Working on it, though."

Zabini stopped dead in his tracks, clearly thunderstruck. "You mean to tell me that you haven't fucked Hermione Granger _yet_? You said you'd been together for over a week now."

Draco gathered up his school books for the day and tossed them into his bag, thinking of a good enough answer to get out of it this time without looking pussy whipped or ruining his new girlfriend's reputation. Blaise was as good as Pansy for destroying people by word of mouth, and he knew that one wrong hint could backfire for both of them. "She's not a slag, man. She's the goody-good spod we all thought she was. I don't want to scare her off. It'll make the sex bad."

"By my fucking rod, she really _is_ Miss Iron Knickers!" Blaise seemed astounded. He whistled in astonishment. "Man, I'd have thought that Mudblood's pussy was well used by Potter by now. Shit, talk about the world's biggest cock tease!"

A cold, rancorous fury instantaneously wound its way up Draco's spine into the back of his head, taking him over. Although his vision wavered red and the need for him to commit violence was never as strong as at that exact moment, it was with a deadly calm that he turned to his friend and spoke in an implacable, succinct voice that sounded to his own ears as if his father were speaking the words instead. "If you talk bad about Granger again, Blaise, I'll rip your balls off and feed them to your familiar. Then I'll mail what's left to _your _Mudblood father. We clear?"

Knowing intimately about Draco's actions during the war and understanding that he was imminently in _real, serious danger_, Blaise physically turned grey and backed away, terrified by the icy vehemence Draco knew was reflected in his eyes. "S-sorry, guy," he stammered, "yeah, clear," and quickly headed for the door, carefully leaving a wide berth between the two of them. Zabini left without a backwards glance, his footsteps hurrying away.

As soon as the wooden panel was shut and Draco was all alone in the silence of his room, he started shaking all over. He grit his teeth against the familiar anger, forcing himself to calm by thinking of the same pleasant memory he'd used for summoning his Patronus last night: riding his broom at lightning fast pace over the Quidditch pitch. Unfortunately, even the freedom and joy he normally felt from the memory of such activities did nothing to calm the rage boiling under his breast.

Shit, he'd only felt this level of temper one other time…

"_Where's your mum, boy? When I find her, I'm gonna hold her down and skull fuck her."_

The memory of Rodolphus Lestrange's threat still echoed around in Draco's head like a pinball put into play against his unbumpered emotions. The anger in his soul multiplied just thinking about that day now...

There hadn't been enough left of his uncle to bury when Snape, Professor Dumbledore, Teddy and Blaise had arrived on the scene minutes after Draco's confrontation with Rodolphus in the graveyard outside the Riddle ancestral home. What pieces they _had_ found of the former Death Eater were a few crisped digits with charred bone peeking out, tattered remnants of black wizard robes, and a single popped hazel-colored eyeball lying in the dirt. The smell of roasted meat choked and sickened the air, and coagulated blood coated everything within a two meter radius, including Draco's face, hair, hands and clothes. He remembered scraping some off his cheek and looking at it, dazed, the gelatinous, red-black fluid thick and gooey on his fingers. He'd had no idea that blood could do that.

It had been the only time Draco had ever killed, and the numerous times he'd thought on it, he'd always come to realize that he'd had no choice. Lestrange was a sick fuck who had been obsessed with Narcissa Malfoy – much to Aunt Bella's resentment – and Draco knew the man had meant to be true to his word. If Draco had fallen in that battle, his uncle would have hunted his mother down, and with Lucius still in Azkaban, she'd have had no one to protect her from the man's perverted depravity.

Still, he had to admit his motives for casting a killing spell weren't based entirely upon rationality and a need to shield the innocent; Draco had been blinded by anger and ill with fear for his mum as he'd faced off against the more powerful wizard, and bluntly, he'd wanted Lestrange dead after his crude pronouncement. So, he'd spoken the words to the first powerful, Dark spell that popped into his head without thought… And then he'd stood by helpless as the curse did its awful damage. Later, Draco had escaped Azkaban's reach only through the clever intervention of Snape and the Headmaster, who had gone to bat for him against the Wizengamot by using their influence as infamous war heroes (along with Potter, whom they coerced into helping them) in a series of well-worded front-page articles in _The Daily Prophet_ to turn the tide of popular thought in Draco's favor, painting him as a dark champion, who had put himself at great risk by spying on the Dark Lord, despite his youth and inexperience. It had been enough to keep him out of prison and away from a Dementor's kiss. He'd been placed on temporary probation instead, with the agreement that he would finish out his final year at Hogwarts as a model student, under the watchful gaze of Dumbledore.

Draco had been extremely lucky in dodging the axe man that time, and was sure that once had been his limit for narrow escapes as far as the universe was concerned.

Lamentably, the desire for an almost berserker madness was known to run rampant throughout the wizarding Pureblood family lines, and none was purer than the Malfoys and Blacks, from whom Draco descended. The sins of his fathers had been passed down to him, so that in very rare times like now, he had to fight to keep himself from giving into the temptation of using Dark Magic to harm another.

Gods above, was he turning into his ghoulish uncle and aunt?

The desire to run, to escape his own skin overtook him fiercely. He needed to get out. The very walls around him seemed suffocating. He wanted…

Hermione.

The memory of her teasing face, her gentle laughter, and her butterfly touch inflamed his senses. He suddenly _needed_ to hold her, to have her hold _him_. It was this compelling drive that jump started his body into action. Hastily making his way back towards her room, he ignored everyone else around him, including Professor Snape, who he passed swiftly in the Entrance Hall and who watched him with concern as he rushed past on his long legs towards the fifth floor corridor, still dressed in last night's clothes.

Draco reached her just as Hermione was about to lock her room up with her wand to go down to breakfast.

"Granger…" he called to her in a growl, and she turned just in time to have her boyfriend shove her back into her door roughly and kiss her like his life depended upon it. He opened her door with a shove, pulled her inside with him, slammed the access to her room shut, and backed her to the bed, where he pushed her down and ravished her mouth relentlessly. He whimpered slightly as he took her lips brutally with blistering pulls. His tongue darted out and tangled with hers with an intensity he hadn't shown before. It was as if he were trying to crawl into her, to bury himself in her fully.

Something was very wrong.

She pushed against him with enough force to break them apart and stared up at him, concerned. His eyes were closed, his breathing harsh, his jaw clenched. She touched his cheek gently with her finger tips and he leaned into her palm, his brows drawn down with what almost seemed pain. "Draco, look at me," she whispered. Hesitantly, he opened his wounded eyes. "What's wrong," she coaxed gently and kissed him lightly, chastely. "Tell me."

One of his hands was twined in her hair, while the other tentatively reached out and touched her face. He looked at her as if she was his only lifeline to the world, but he was afraid she wasn't real. "I needed to see you," he told her, his voice rasped with emotion. "You… make me feel right again."

She blinked, unsure what he was talking about exactly, but knowing instinctively that he needed comfort at that moment. Running her right hand through his hair, she pampered him with soothing touches until his breathing was even once more. "I'm here for you, whatever it is," she told him sincerely. "Can you tell me?"

He suddenly looked very ashamed, and slid his eyes to the side. "I… I killed someone, Granger," he admitted and Hermione felt a cold pit open up in her stomach. "In the war. Potter, Dumbledore, Snape, they knew, and they kept it out of the papers. But it happened. I murdered a man - my own uncle." He looked angry and bitter all of the sudden when he swung his gaze back to hers. "Bet that changes everything now, doesn't it?"

Hermione didn't know what to say. Harry knew? Why hadn't he ever said anything to her? Her mind was awhirl with emotions.

Seeing her hesitation, Draco apparently took her silence for agreement to his last statement and with a resentful sigh, he tried to move away from her. Instinctively, Hermione tightened her arms around him, lifted her legs and pinned him in place by squeezing his hips between her thighs and yanking his torso downward towards her at the same moment. "No, not until we talk," she asserted, holding onto his arms despite his second and third attempts to dislodge her. "You came to me, Malfoy, remember? So, stop pushing away!"

He stilled, his eyes wide with disbelief. "What the hell is there to talk about? _I killed someone_. I took a life, Hermione. And I used an Unmentionable to do it, too."

Her brows furrowed over. "What's that? Some kind of curse?"

He sneered in distaste. "The Unmentionables were seven of the worst curses ever invented. The Ministry buried them after the Inquisition ended four hundred years ago because they were so horrible. They make the three Unforgivables look like child's play." He leaned his face down until they were practically nose-to-nose, his eyes hard, and his voice succinct as he laid out the truth. "I cursed my uncle to spontaneously combust with one of them. I liquefied his organs in his body, and I boiled the blood in his veins until his head popped. His brains splattered everywhere. It took at least a minute for him to die. And he screamed the whole time, even while his head split open like an overripe melon." He paused to give time for his words to sink in. "You sure you want me touching you now, Granger?"

Hermione was repulsed by the visual Draco had presented.

He'd taken a life willfully, viciously.

But then again, she almost had as well…

The war had been quick, relatively speaking, but it had not been painless for her, either. She'd seen death face-to-face the afternoon they'd gone after Voldemort: Hagrid, Mad Eye Moody, Aberforth Dumbledore, Dobby and three Aurors she never knew had all been buried that evening. And she'd _almost_ lost all three of her best friends. But the memory that haunted her the most was how she'd hexed the Death Eater, Walden Macnair, laying the man low with an overly exuberant and violent _Evert Statum_ that had smashed his head with such force against the wall that it had left him in a coma for eighteen days. During that time, she'd agonized over the idea that she might have damaged the man permanently or that he may never wake up again and it would be all her fault. And yet, as she replayed those moments in her head continually, Hermione realized that even if she could go back and change things, she wouldn't. Macnair's incapacitation had saved Ron from being _Avada_'d by the man, who's murderous curse had gone awry at the very last second when she'd hit him with her own hex.

She could have killed Macnair accidentally... and she knew deep in her heart, if she'd had a do-over of that day, she would have done it all the same again if it meant saving one of her best friends.

So, despite Draco's confession, she couldn't really be repulsed by what he had done, or she'd be a big, fat hypocrite. And truthfully, all she could really think about now was how gently Malfoy had held her as she slept with him on the couch, how he'd touched her face with reverence that first night he'd come to her, how he'd kissed her and made her feel alive and special. She didn't see him as the boy he'd been prior to this term. She saw him as the man she now held in her arms... And she was sure there had been a reason for his use of a curse that terrible. Just as she'd had a reason for her mistake, too.

Hermione locked eyes with Malfoy as she pressed a kiss to his lips. She didn't shutter her lids, but looked up at him intently even as her mouth slanted over his and as she let her tongue slide along the slit of his lips, willing him to open up for her. He remained unresponsive, watching her dubiously. "I don't think any differently of you," she explained in a low, husky voice, running her fingertips over his cheeks softly. "I did things in the war I wasn't proud of either; things that _really_ hurt others. But I already told you: I trust you, Draco. That hasn't gone away because you told me a terrible secret from your past." She nuzzled her nose against his. "So, as far as I'm concerned, no, nothing's changed between us, and yes, I still want you touching me."

For a moment, he looked undecided, but when her tongue dipped up again, trying to wriggle through his tightly closed mouth, he groaned and gave in. Dropping his lips onto hers, they spent the next half hour kissing away his acrimonious self-hatred, tenderly giving and taking from each other.

She heard the bell toll the eleven o'clock hour, and ignored it. She really had nowhere to be until one anyway. Besides, she _liked_ what they were doing; her knickers were wet, and her heart was already pounding in anticipation. She began rubbing her pelvis up against Draco's. He responded with a moan and pressed back against her. She could feel his hard length through his pants, and wanted more. "I want to rub against you without your pants on. Skin on skin." He automatically shook his head, as she knew he would, but she overrode him. "There's too much fabric in the way for me to feel you like I want to. I… need this."

He dropped his forehead onto hers, panting hard. "Shit… Granger, I'm not sure. I don't know if I can keep myself from trying to get inside of you. I don't trust myself right now."

Hermione looked at him sincerely, needing to feel as much of him as possible. "_Please_, Draco."

He took a deep breath and let it out between clenched teeth, contemplating for more than a minute. "Okay," he finally agreed. "Okay, baby." He reached for his belt and undid it, and she helped him tug his pants and boxers down. She couldn't see what he looked like naked with his shirt in the way, but she definitely felt when he pulled her panties off, and then laid his hot, hard, silken length directly between her wet folds. He was long and heavy.

"Fuck," he whispered as he began slowly rubbing up and down, groaning at the feel.

Hermione gripped his biceps hard and ground her pelvis against him as he mounted her, feeling the heat and steel of his shaft clipping her clit with each stroke, causing electricity to shoot up her spine. Her body was on fire with an ache in her womb that called for real completion. "You feel _so_ _good_. Don't stop, Draco. Merlin, _please_ don't stop!"

Draco's breathing was loud in the room, to mingle with her moans, and his face took on an almost pained expression again as he increased the pace. "Christ, Granger… what are you doing to me? I want… _fuck!_ I want _you_." He shoved his upper body off of hers with a powerful push-up, and locked their pelvises together with a hard friction, thrusting through her swollen, drenched lower lips frantically now. He stared down at her with an intensity that burned, his face transposed by a desperate need for fulfillment.

Maybe, she thought, caught up in the overwhelming feelings, it would be okay if they did "it" today…

Without his consent or knowledge, she tilted her hips up just as he pulled back and the end of his penis slid down to her opening, and Draco entered her a fraction of a centimeter. He froze automatically, cutting though the fevered haze of pleasure to make sense of what she'd purposefully just done. His whole body literally thrummed against hers as he waited, poised on the brink, his eyes and mouth opened in astonishment. Hermione stared back at him, her heart slamming in her throat, willing him to understand her silent request to not stop. A shared understanding passed between them in those few seconds and Draco swallowed hard, then nodded once, accepting the responsibility she'd offered up freely. This was it, then - the moment Hermione was going to lose her virginity. She tried to quell the terror that gripped her senses, swallowing back her trepidation, reminding herself that everything would be okay; that her boyfriend would make this good for her.

She reached for his hips, running her fingers under his shirt and up his sides, wanting to touch him as much as possible. They were both of them panting and gasping as he pushed in a bit more, burying his crown into her moist flesh, and then holding firm for a few more seconds. She felt a tight suction as he gently, slowly began rocking the head of his shaft in and out of her with small jerks of his hips, opening her up bit by bit. It stung; the unfamiliar ache of being stretched out at her entrance sharp, and Hermione bit her lip to keep herself from whimpering. He was uncomfortably larger than she'd expected – and he wasn't even all the way in, just the tip of him! She lay perfectly still, letting him take the lead, her body unconsciously tensing up in expectation of the pain to come as he moved a little deeper into her canal. Draco's eyelids slid shut in something akin to ecstasy-laden pain, and she felt him tense up, preparing to plunge forward to finally break through her hymen. A few more seconds and it would be done…

Two sharp raps on her door suddenly punctuated the stillness, interrupting the moment and arresting both of their movements entirely. Hermione slid her eyes to the area of disturbance, but after twenty seconds, the knocks did not repeat and there did not appear to be any sounds coming from the other side of the solid oak panel. Perhaps whomever it had been had assumed she was gone for the morning to classes and had left?

The TimeTurner around her neck – which she had taken to only wearing outside her room, and which she had forgotten to remove when Draco had swooped down on her without warning - unexpectedly tingled against her skin. She recognized that sensation from Third Year when she'd rescued Sirius Black with Harry, and again earlier this year on the night Teddy had tried to commit suicide. Had she just sent herself another message from the future to stop what she was doing? Her doubt hung up her brain for several seconds.

Maybe this wasn't the right time for them to try this after all...

She glanced back up to Draco and was a little surprised to see that he seemed to be relieved by the disruption. "We shouldn't do this now," he explained, shaking all over with repressed sexual tension. "There's more for you to learn still. This… you're not ready yet." With that, he slowly pulled out of her and laid his big body across hers, bracing himself on his forearms and elbows, careful to keep his lower region tilted so he wasn't in the exact middle of her thighs anymore, removing them both from further temptation. He kissed her tenderly.

Although Hermione was a tad disappointed, as logical, rationalized thinking replaced libido-fogged incoherency, she realized that Draco was absolutely right. The fact that she'd been terrified in the moment of their coupling was her "big neon sign in the sky," in Muggle speak, as she knew that if it had been right, there should have been no hesitation or fear on her part. She definitely wasn't ready for this stage in their relationship yet. Thank goodness they hadn't culminated the act. Nodding against his neck in understanding and agreement, she swallowed back a mixture of shame, embarrassment and ineptness. "I'm sorry for pushing this."

He kissed her cheek and pulled back, glancing at her, that strange vulnerability back in his eyes. "It's my fault, Granger. I'm the one with the experience. I should have had better control." He petted her face. "That you were willing to… even knowing what you do about me… that was enough." He placed kisses all along her jaw and edge of her mouth, and then reluctantly pulled back. "We should get dressed now."

He moved off of her and readjusted his clothes as she rolled to her feet and looked for her knickers on the floor, slipping them back up her legs. She righted her uniform jumper and skirt and smoothed down her hair, then realized her curls were extremely mussed from their overly zealous snog session. Turning to the bathroom (as she moved, she cringed from the minor ache in between her legs), she did her best to fix the mess, then gave up with a sigh and began braiding the mass of hair instead.

As she was finishing the long plait, Draco came in behind her and wrapped his arms around her middle. He stared at her hotly in the mirror, locking eyes with her. "When it's time, though, I'm going to fuck you so good, Hermione, that you're _going_ to scream my name," he promised darkly while rubbing his lips against her cheek and sliding his hands up and down her sides. In her chest, Hermione's blood pumped furiously in response to his words and touch. It roared into her ears, making her almost dizzy from the renewed rush. Malfoy continued to hold her gaze as he ran his mouth over her neck and jaw, punctuating his vow with every kiss and touch. When he approached her ear, he whispered one last pledge. "I'm going to make sure that you're _never_ going to forget me, Granger."

_No, I won't forget you, Draco, _she thought a little sadly. _Because even when this is over in a few weeks, I'll still love you._

Teddy took his customary seat in the library after dinner that night, waiting for Granger to show up, per her regular schedule. At six-fifteen, she appeared and sat in the empty chair next to him. "Hi," she greeted with that smile he adored.

"Hey," he welcomed her, pretending not to be affected by her nearness, even though his heart had accelerated slightly. The scent of her perfume wafted on the air and drove him wild with want, and he had to mentally coerce his lower body into calming itself. "What chapter are you on now?" he asked, trying to distract, holding up his Advanced Charms book.

"Twenty-one," she admitted. "I've finally overtaken you."

Teddy shook his head. "Think again, golden girl." He threw the book down on his backpack and pretended to wash his hands of it.

Hermione could have caught flies with the expression on her face. Her jaw was, literally, unhinged and her eyes incredulous. "_Do not_ tell me you finished the whole book. There are thirty chapters!"

Teddy tilted his head to the side with a teasing smirk. "Okay, I won't tell you that, then." His grin widened. "Even if it's true."

Granger huffed for a few minutes. "Well… I mean… but really… you couldn't have…" She finally clamped her lips together in irritation. "Maybe you finished the reading portion, but there's no way you could have practiced all those charms in a week."

Rising to the challenge, Teddy took an apple out of his bag (he'd been saving it for a late night snack during studying, but it would do for this demonstration), whipped out his wand. "_Putredo_ Apple." The fruit began rotting instantly and within seconds, was nothing more than a mushy pile of goo on the desk. He then banished the liquefied apple with another flick of his wand, looked over at Hermione and grinned wickedly. "I could also, if you want, demonstrate the burning itch or coughing hex for you, but you'd have to volunteer for the role of test dummy."

She looked at him in part awe, part wry amusement. "I can't believe it! You're absolutely amazing! You must have been studying until the wee hours to get to the end of the book. No wonder you've looked so hackney'd lately." She turned concerned eyes to him. "This bet, Teddy… please don't let it drive you into burning your candle at both ends, though. If it comes to that, I'll have to back out."

Shit. He couldn't let her do that – not if he wanted his final wish to come true. He shook his head, trying to reassure her. "Don't worry, Granger, I'm okay. I went and saw Pomfrey today and she gave me a restorative. I'll be fine. I'm not going to kill myself trying to beat you out of top slot."

_No, __I'm__ not going to kill myself at all. The illness is taking care of that all on its own._

She studied him for a moment, apparently trying to reassure herself that he wasn't being duplicitous in the way of his House motto, and then she nodded in acceptance of his promise. "Okay, then." She opened her Charms book and started reading. "Looks like I have a lot of catch-up to do."

They spent the rest of the evening together quietly reading. Occasionally, Teddy would glance over at his silent study partner and catch her twirling a stray curl through one of her fingers, or biting her lip as she concentrated on absorbing the contents of her book. Somewhere around the nine o'clock hour, she even gasped and smiled. "But that's so simple!" she muttered, and whipped out her wand, waved it at her satchel and spoke the word for a permanent color change charm. "_Livedo_." Her grey bag instantly changed to jewel-tone blue. "_Nigredo_," she spoke the charm again and it turned black. "_Albedo_," and it was brillantly white. "_Rubedo_" finalized the carryall into a scarlet hue. She smiled in satisfaction and Teddy put his own book down to clap his hands together in congratulations.

"Nice. You've accessorized your pack with your House color, now," he joked and Hermione blushed under his praise. "And your cheeks, too," he slyly threw out with a snicker.

She tapped her wand in his direction and cleared her throat curtly. "Careful, Nott. I'm already tempted to try out that laziness hex on you so I can catch up. A little sloth on your impertinent fanny might do us both some good."

He leaned forward in his chair and grabbed the tip of her wooden baton between his index finger and thumb, giving her a wicked grin. It was a very intimate and bold move to touch another practitioner's wand, but Teddy was feeling rather frisky and carefree at the moment. "If you're going to hex me with one of the seven deadly sins, Granger, at least make it a… _titillating_… one."

She blushed brighter and ducked her head, and Teddy laughed, knowing he'd _finally_ gotten her attention at long last.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **

**- **_**U. Triffidus**_** is, of course, not a real plant; I made it up. However, its name and attributes are an **_**homage**_** to a fellow countryman – the British sci-fi author, John Wyndham, who wrote "Day of the Triffids," a frightening novel about man-eating plants. Recommended if you're into the genre!**

**- Draco is never indicated in the books as being able to cast a Patronus; I made it up for this fanfic. I picked the eagle for him because the animal represents pride, strength, vision, independence and nobility. According to one chart on an eagle's traits: "The eagle is a noble hunter. An aggressive bird, the eagle knows what it wants and takes it. A person with the personality traits of an eagle is bold and dominant. An eagle is highly analytical and decisive. He or she can be stubborn and insensitive to others' needs. An eagle tends to be self-centered and narrow-minded. An eagle can sometimes come across as being devoid of emotion." It seems to fit him, I thought. On the other side, Hermione is an otter (according to J.K.R. canon – I didn't make that up). Personally, I don't think this fits her at all, though, as an otter is typified as: "Just so full of fun and having fun ideas. Not liking the boring task of working, a person possessing the otter trait is one who much prefers the fishing trips, shopping trips, and just anything in general that doesn't pertain to work. Now the otter is not necessarily lazy, it's just that work is not this person's strong suit. These types of people tend to be more spontaneous with a care free attitude. They do tend to start projects that are often left uncompleted so they can start another one that sounds so much better than the first. They are not usually very good at saving money or spending it wisely. There is never a "rainy day" because there is always something fun out there to occupy them." I think Hermione is more a beaver personality, myself ("The beaver and anyone who possess the traits of the beaver are very dedicated to their work. They are often found to be more of a perfectionist with a lot of attention to details. They want to know why you do this, how do you do this, and what are the results. They are a more "fact based" person. The more facts the better. They enjoy working and sometimes are refered to as the "workaholic" and are almost total opposites to the otters. They tend to get things done and they are the ones who ask directions if they get lost. They are also known as the ones who read the intructions and have very few "spare" parts left over at christmas time. They also tend to have some cash stashed away for the "rainy day"). J.K.R. admitted she picked the otter for Hermione because she sees the character as herself, and Rowling likes otters. **

**- According to Harry Potter Wiki: "The Antipodean Opaleye is a breed of Dragon native to New Zealand, although it has been known to migrate to Australia in search of territory. It resides in valleys, which is unusual as dragons typically reside on mountains. It is generally considered one of the most beautiful dragons with pearly scales that line its body, and glittering multi-coloured eyes that have no pupils. The Opaleye's eggs are pale grey and been known to be mistaken by Muggles as fossils. Its flame is vivid red, and the Opaleye is not particulary aggressive, rarely killing unless it is hungry. Its prey of choice is sheep, but it has been known to attack larger animals. In the 1970s, several kangaroo killings were thought to have been caused by a male Opaleye that had been ousted from its territory by a dominant female."**

**- The seven "Unmentionable Curses" are something I made up for this fanfic and for my other story, "To Begin Again." I envisioned the "Unmentionables" as being a series of spells utilized by the Inquisition in Europe (specifically, the Pureblood wizards hiding amongst the Church's Inquisition's numbers to secretly cull Muggle-borns and Halfbloods). In this made-up history, the Ministry of Magic banned all references to the "Unmentionables" and burned all books that contained any information on them in the 1700's, and as a result, these nasty spells have been forgotten by the wizarding community over time. The Malfoy family's extensive library, however, managed to have a single copy of a book that recorded these spells (because Brutus Malfoy, an ancestor at the tail end of the Inquisition days, secreted this book away and hid it well). Draco obviously found the book (and made sure Voldemort did not) and used spell #6 on his uncle. The spells are:**

_**1. Organum Ructus**_** ("Organ Rot") – Rots a person's internal organs slowly over days. The cure is to take a number of very painful, rare potions for over a year before the tissues of the organs are stable enough to regenerate on their own. Closely related to Dolohov's Curse from J.K.R.'s books.**

_**2. Somniculouse**_** ("Sleep") – Causes a person to be in a permanent coma until their body starves or gives out due to age. No cure.**

_**3. Desino**_** ("Stop/Desist") – Causes a person to freeze in place until they suffocate and die. Death within minutes. Only **_**Finite Incantatum**_** can free the person. I expounded on **_**Petrificus Totalus **_**for this one.**

_**4. AtteroVeneficus**_** ("Weaken/Impair Wizard/Witch") – Permanently diminishes a person's magical talent so that they become a Squib within minutes. No cure.**

_**5. Saecula Saeculorum**_** ("Age Forever") – Causes a person to age forward through all the stages of their physical life within hours, until at last they die of old age. Causes intense pain throughout joints, bones, and internal organs as a result. No cure.**

_**6. Fiamma Morte **_**("Death Flame") – Causes a person to spontaneously combust. Organs liquefy, blood boils in veins, pressure builds up in head until it bursts. Takes approximately a minute to die once cast. No cure. **

_**7. Acqua Morte**_** ("Death Water") – Changes all of the blood in the body instantly into ice water. Paralyzes the heart, and creates intense, sharp needle-like pain in the brain and throughout all of a person's nerve endings. Takes approximately thirty seconds to die once case. No cure.**


	5. Chapters 9 and 10

**CHAPTER NINE: UNEXPECTED **

_**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland**_

_**Friday, November 7, 1997 - Sunday, November 9, 1997**_

Teddy watched Hermione and Draco enter Friday morning's Advanced Potions Lecture hand-in-hand and felt that increasingly regular pain in his heart stab away at him, and he cursed under his breath. After vowing not to get too close to Granger again, Teddy had made the mistake of being flirty and a little overly friendly with her last night, and now he was paying the piper for such foolishness.

Really, what the hell had he expected? He knew the score. Granger was Drake's, and he was a fucking lousy friend for even entertaining 'what-ifs' and 'if onlys' in regards to her.

He turned and plopped down on a stool at one of the tables and opened his satchel to take out his notebook, quill and inkpot. To his surprise, Harry Potter appeared at his elbow. "Can I sit here?" the young dark-haired man asked, indicating the empty seat to Teddy's right.

"Sure," Teddy nodded, looking about and noticing that Ronald Weasley was nowhere to be found. "Where's your friend today?"

Harry was rummaging through his book bag and didn't look at him as he replied. "Ron's in hospital with a head cold."

Normally Teddy could have cared less, but today, he felt the need for some conversation to take his mind off of the happy couple who were seating themselves at the empty table to his left. Keeping his face averted from Drake and Hermione as he addressed Potter helped somewhat to distract. "How'd he catch that then? Practicing Quidditch without a hat?"

Potter smirked and chuffed. "More like practicing snogging Lavender Brown in the wind without a scarf. The fool snuck out late last night to the East Bridge to meet her and came back early this morning with a fever and sore throat." Harry looked up at him and chuckled. "He says it was worth it."

Teddy couldn't help the good-humored smirk that crept up his face. "A day out of classes and some major lip action with a total babe? I'd have taken that bet myself."

Harry nodded, his grin wicked. "Yeah, me too."

After that, and to Teddy's general amazement, he found the conversation between he and Potter flowed quite naturally and friendly until Slughorn entered the room and the class quieted down as one to take the day's notes. As Teddy looked out of the corner of his eye at Potter he realized he'd have to re-evaluate his suppositions about the guy. For one, Harry seemed a-okay, if not a bit too honest and casual in his divulging of personal information (no Slytherin worth their weight would ever have given as much away about themselves and their friends so quickly, especially with someone they hardly knew). Two, Harry was a genuinely charming person by nature. It was easy to see how he'd made such easy friends with more than half the school over the last seven years. And three, he was Hermione's best male friend, and that recommendation now meant more to him than just about any other.

When class ended, Harry turned to him. "Care to partner for Transfig Lab today?" he asked somewhat cautiously, referring to their shared two o'clock class. Teddy knew Draco and Hermione would also be there, and decided it would be all right to allow himself the distraction of Potter's presence and conversation again. Besides, the guy seemed to have a natural talent for magic, which made working with him easy.

"Sure, why not?"

Potter looked at him pointedly for a few seconds, and then past him to Draco and Hermione, who were gathering up their things and preparing to leave together. "Yeah, sounds good. See you after lunch then."

Gathering his satchel over his shoulder, Harry left quickly without saying goodbye to his best female friend, and Teddy was left to wonder what in the hell that was all about.

Potter turned out to be an adequately skilled Transfigurer as well, much to Teddy's amazement. Clearly, the guy's strengths lie in Dark Arts defense, but he held his own and then some in the face of the day's lesson: altering one's own facial features.

As they worked, far across the room from Drake and Hermione, Teddy learned that Harry had been forced to perform this same set of spells last year, during his hunt for the final Horcruxes – specifically he'd given himself enough of a make-over one time that he'd been able to waltz right into the Hufflepuff Common Room in the hopes of discovering where Helga's Cup – one of Voldemort's secret hiding places for a piece of his rotten, twisted soul – could be located, and no one had recognized him.

"Clever," Teddy praised with a grin. "If not risky."

Potter nodded seriously. "Yeah, no kidding. The Badgers are definitely no pushovers; they're almost as vicious as you Snakes when they've been messed with. And they take it as a personal insult on the whole bloody lot of 'em if you go wrong just one member. In May, Seamus slipped half a bottle of U-No-Poo into Wayne Hopkins' pumpkin juice to get even for the fact that the guy stole your housemate, Tracey Davis away from him. In retaliation, they sent my entire House a dozen boxes of Puking Pastilles disguised as ordinary chocolates under the pretext of an end of year gift. Thank Merlin only a few First Years had eaten them before the projectile vomiting started, and we quickly threw the rest away."

Teddy whistled low. "Wow… talk about your exponential revenge-taking. Guess I ought to never do a Hufflepuff wrong."

Harry sniggered. "No, I wouldn't recommend it."

They spent the rest of the lesson amicably talking, and by the end of it, Teddy had learned something important about Harry Potter: the guy was _sharp_. Not much got past him. If not for his own years of honed conversational skills, in fact, Teddy might have just mistaken the young man's casual comments for small talk. He realized over the course of those three hours working together, though, that Potter never said anything without purpose. The Hufflepuff warning he'd gotten earlier – probably meant so he could pass that onto Harper, who was currently trying to woo Davis away from Hopkins openly.

He'd have to be extra careful to hide his illness around the guy. The last thing Teddy needed was for Hermione to find out through her friend's hawkish observations.

For the first time, Teddy wondered if the rumors were true that the Sorting Hat almost sent Harry Potter over to Slytherin instead of Gryffindor. It would have made sense, in a way.

After the events of Wednesday night and Thursday morning, Draco stepped up the lessons on Friday night again, moving Hermione into a realm she'd never gone before with a man – full topless nudity.

They were lounging on the couch, him up on his left elbow, leaning over her as she lay flat looking up at him and they were kissing tenderly when she felt his hand slide down over her clothed breast and begin stroking her. His fingers danced over to the buttons of her shirt and began slipping them from their holes one at a time. She'd already removed her own shirt in front of him once, so this wasn't really a frightening thing in and of itself. Too enamored by his kissing to worry anyway, she felt her shirt parted in the middle and cool air caressed her exposed skin. She broke the kiss to look up at him and Draco's easy smile and soft fingers rubbing her abdomen gently kept her calm.

"Lesson four," he informed her tenderly. "Overcoming shyness about your own body." His light kisses moved from her lips, to her cheek, down her jaw, to the side of her neck.

He hummed appreciatively and placing hands on her shoulders, he guided them both into sitting up, and quickly slid her shirt off her arms, tugging it over her small wrists and dropping it to the floor next to the couch. He kissed her again, as his arms slid around her and he began expertly fiddling with her bra strap. When she felt it give, felt his hands slipping the thin straps down her biceps and off of her, heat rushed through her entire body. Her cheeks were on fire as he moved away to look down at her naked breasts for the first time. She bit her lip, fought against shielding herself with her arms, and let him stare, trying to calm her racing heart by concentrating on the black turtleneck that poked out from under his dark green cable-knit sweater.

His fingers trailed a path over her shoulders, down her collarbone, smoothing their way towards her exposed bosom, until at last he was cupping them and pushing upwards. His long, pale fingers were splayed over the nipples, his thumbs rubbing the bottom of the curves, and she gasped at the exquisite feeling.

"They're perfect," he murmured to her. "Just the right size for my hands. Beautifully shaped." His fingers stroked her areolas. "Gods, you're _so_ _soft_ here." He seemed almost in awe as his index fingers and thumbs gently rolled her nipples. She was panting now from the sensations, her body jerking uncontrollably with each complete circle he made, and she gripped his upper arms tightly to keep some measure of control. He leaned forward and kissed her neck, breathing hotly against her sensitive skin. "I love how you react to my touch."

He continued caressing her, and let their lips meet again for a searing kiss that lasted a long time. It was hard to concentrate on what her tongue and mouth were doing as his hands kept sliding up and down her waist, around her back, up her spine, back under and over her breasts, smoothing over her nipples, only to glide away again and repeat. She was quickly catapulted into a state of sensory overload; her brain couldn't cope. Moaning and grabbing at him, she begged him for more, not caring how fast they were moving. He continued his languid exploration of her body, however, not giving in to her demands. Caught in the moment, she was a little resentful when he pulled away from her completely, sitting back to look at her.

"You're brilliant, Hermione," he breathed, and couldn't seem to help his hand as it wound about her throat, running over the back of her neck, and tangled in her hair possessively. "So sexy, so passionate…" He tilted her head back with a tug and her spine arched, her breasts thrust towards him. His mouth latched onto her left breast and he began sucking and flicking her nipple with his tongue, and Hermione cried out in ecstasy. She ran her fingers through his silken, platinum hair and held on mindlessly as he began nipping and lathing her next, tugging the rosy bud between his teeth.

"Mark me again," she begged, all animal instinct now, letting her primal self take complete dominance over her logical, proper self. "Right there, Draco."

He groaned in response, and then his teeth clamped down on her breast and he bit her hard. She hissed in both pain and pleasure, and he moaned in response, applying pressure and laying her back on the couch, riding her down. He kept suckling at her, and her legs came up of their own volition to cradle him between her thighs. Dropping his hips, he began rubbing against her mound with his pelvis, grinding against her as his mouth moved towards her right breast.

"Merlin!" she swore, thrusting her hips against his, feeling the warmth between them building her up to a fast crescendo. "Draco… _harder_."

He growled low in his throat, and Hermione could feel his solid erection straining to be freed from his pants. Once again, she forgot that she'd wanted to wait for her first time to be special; caught in the moment, she didn't care. She implored him to just give in; to plunge into her body right then and there. One of his hands began reaching between them to start undoing his belt buckle, but a moment later and with amazing restraint, he forced himself to stop, cuffing the side of the couch near her head in frustration instead. He desperately wanted to give in, she _knew_ he did by the way he shuddered all up and down his frame, but he was being considerate of their agreement. He clearly wasn't going to take them somewhere that they both knew, deep down inside, she wasn't ready for quite yet. Instead, he gave her what was allowable, and attacked with renewed force upon her breasts with his mouth, grinding harder against her with his hips. Her hands grabbed his waist, and she thrust back against him wildly. Very soon, she approached her climax.

"Come on, baby," he grated between his teeth, pulling away from her nipple to place his head next to her ear. "Give yourself to me."

She was right there… and with a final hard thrust against her clit, she crashed with a wail, her whole body tensing up, red-orange fire exploding behind her eyelids. She clung to Draco fiercely, wrapping herself around him in hot blooded release.

When she came back down from her high, he cradled her face and licked and nipped at her lips lightly, catching her panting expelled air into his open mouth. When her breathing became more even, he laid on her a sultry, lingering kiss that touched Hermione's soul with its sweetness. He hadn't come; she could tell by the way he kept circling his pelvis lightly against her mound, his erection still very prominent through his pants. When she asked him if he wanted to, he shook his head. "This is all for you right now," he murmured tenderly, continuing to place sucking, wet kisses on her throat, caressing her jaw with his right hand. "I can take care of myself later."

The thought of him stroking himself, coupled with his seductive hip motions against her caused a renewed rush of warmth through her, dampening her knickers even more. She shuddered and pressed herself back into him, and he chuckled darkly in her ear. "More?" Pulling Draco's head back towards her, she Frenched him wildly in answer and within a rushed, sweltering five minutes of grinding, tonguing and gasping, she'd come again.

They each struggled weakly to regain sanity, their hearts pounding behind their chests in an asynchronous rhythm. After a few seconds, Draco pushed himself over onto her side against the back of the couch to keep from crushing her, resting his damp brow on her naked shoulder, laboriously panting.

"Thank you," she whispered, running fingers through his hair gently. "For making me feel so good… and for not giving in."

He gave a tired laugh. "You're welcome, on both counts." He lifted his head slightly and looked over at her. "I think you definitely mastered this lesson, Granger."

They grinned at each other, and then relaxed and cuddled, enjoying the afterglow, and very soon, Hermione slumbered, wrapped up in Draco's warm arms, feeling his lips and fingers sleepily caressing her bared skin.

When she awoke Saturday morning, she was in her bed, having been moved there at some point in the early morning, although she'd had no memory of that happening. She was also, amusedly, wearing Draco's dark green sweater; the soft cashmere tickled her bare nipples. Not wanting to get out of bed just then, she snuggled back down under the covers, pressing the neckline of his pullover to her nose and inhaling deeply. Cherries simmering in port wine, sweet and dark and spicy. Merlin, she loved his cologne!

Smiling, she closed her eyes and let herself drift back off to lazy sleep with her boyfriend's scent pervading her senses.

On Sunday morning, Hermione met with Ernie and all of the House Prefects (except Ron who was still recovering from a cold), as they had agreed to do every weekend from now until the Yule Ball to work out the issues, and to keep each other on track. Last Sunday's meeting had finally generated a theme (after an hour and a half of debate on the issue): a stag masquerade to encourage inter-House mingling primarily, but with the secondary benefit that no formal dates amongst students might actually prevent the flurry of violent anxiety that popped up every year like clockwork around this time, distracting from important school work. Formal dress robes would be the fashion, as usual, and the official color theme was gold and silver.

Today's meeting would be an update to find out what had been accomplished on the various assigned tasks over the past week.

Parvati Patil and Anthony Goldstein stood up first and gave their report to the group regarding the invitations. "Invitations will go out by next Saturday – that's the fifteenth," Parvati explained. "That way, there will be six weeks advanced notice so people can get started on their masks and dress shopping."

"Luca Carruse will be working with Martine Copplestone to hand out the Hufflepuff and Hogwarts staff member invites," Anthony explained. "Irving Cram will handle Slytherin, Justin Steele will do Ravenclaw, and Parvati will take care of Gryffindor."

"What's the design?' Ernie asked, scribbling down notes hurriedly. "And what's your budget look like?"

Parvati held up a rather attractive rectangular, snow white invitation, bordered with silver embossed lines. In the middle was the sample text for the invitation, done in gold embossed script. It came with a simple, matching snow white envelope. It was simple, but elegant. She passed it around the room for people to see, and exchanged a pleased smile with Anthony. "Tony's dad works for Whizz Hard Books' pressers, and when he told them of our budget situation, they agreed to print these up for free for us! The only thing we have to pay for is the card stock, which comes in at a little less than twenty-five galleons."

There were a lot of happy gasps and a few claps in appreciation from the group. "Wow, that's amazing!" Hermione burst out enthusiastically. "That's… Tony, Parvati, that's fantastic!"

"Hey, could you shift their unused budget over to the Food and Drinks Committee instead?" Pansy Parkinson piped up, her arms crossed, her face sour as she looked at Hermione. "We're seriously short if you expect to feed that many people adequately, you know."

"Or you _could_ throw some of that cash our way," Blaise countered, giving a smirk to his girlfriend across the table. "That way we could hire a quality band instead of a cut-rate one."

Padma stepped up then. "With a better decorations budget, we could really make the hall look as spectacular as it had been during the Tri-Wizard Tournament, instead of the usual school dance chintz."

Instantly, there was animated arguing among the Chair Heads and amongst their individual staff members as they all debated the merits of a bigger budget for their particular committee over another. Hermione and Ernie glanced at each other in frustration. "The sharks are circling," he muttered under his breath. "I leave it in your capable hands to decide, Miss Number One Student." He grinned.

Hermione rolled her eyes and sighed. It was going to be one of _those_ days, she could just tell.

"Okay, pipe down," she instructed firmly, standing, and the special room allocated to them within the Library fell quiet again. Only Dennis Aldermaston made any noise as he continued to munch disgustingly loud on what had to be his third powdered donut. "We've got a very limited budget to begin with, as you all know, but yes, we can certainly shift around the remainder of Invitations' budget equally amongst the other three committees." When there looked to be a protest, Hermione held her hand up. "But that still not going to be a lot of money. So, I expect you all to try to follow Parvati's and Anthony's example and come up with a way to get whatever you need creatively."

She looked to Padma first. "I would suggest you look in the storage cupboards around the school and see if there are things in there we could use for free from previous events. I know Slughorn's Christmas Party stuff is spirited somewhere around here, and he had some really nice, large swathes of fairy cloth. Go through that stuff first. Next, you might want to check out The Room of Hidden Things in The Room of Requirement. There's got to be stuff in there worth swiping. Just be careful in there and take a teacher with you so you don't get hurt. If all else fails, there's always transfiguring items. Professor McGonagall can help you make sure the spells stay in place for the whole night, if need be. You can also charm the ceiling with falling snow or shooting stars or something."

She turned to Pansy next. "I heard your Sweet Seventeen party last year was quite the spread. Ask your parents who the caterer was, and then go to them and find out if they'd be willing to donate some foodstuffs to the Ball in exchange for a free marketing opportunity with _The Daily Prophet _and _Witch Weekly, _who are going to cover the dance."

"I thought the press wasn't allowed on campus," Pansy shot back, dubiously.

Hermione shrugged nonchalantly. "I'll talk to the Headmaster today and convince him that the Yule Ball – which is a community event fostering good relations amongst Muggle-borns, Half-bloods and Pure-bloods – would be a perfect opportunity for a _carefully guided_ set of press agents to come and cover. The good publicity would definitely go a long way towards showing the world that Hogwarts has recovered from the war, and is, in fact, the safest and happiest place on earth for young wizards and witches. And perhaps even some home-schoolers will see the article and beg their parents to let them come here – which would sure as fire fix the budget problem the school is currently having."

Pansy's stance didn't change, and her brows drew down in consideration of the proposition presented, but after a second or two, she nodded her head. "All right, I'll try it."

"If your caterer doesn't want to be generous, I'm sure there are dozens of others out there willing to be," Hermione encouraged her. "And you might want to ask Madam Rosmerta over at The Three Broomsticks if she'd donate some Butterbeers or her homebrewed Hottie Totties in exchange for the free press as well."

She turned to Blaise next. "If you want a really hot band, this may be a case where the other students are going to have to put up from their own pockets to help out. I would suggest setting up donation boxes in each of the houses and getting the word out that the only way the Weird Sisters or someone like that is coming here, is if the students themselves fork out something to pay for it. Every knut and sickle contributed counts towards getting you what you want." She ran a hand along the back of her neck. "If that fails, we might be able to look at Muggle options for music." She turned to Vicky Frobisher. "Didn't you mention in May that you wanted your cousin to DJ Gryffindor's end of year party?"

Vicky nodded. "Yeah, John works on both sides of the divide. He's always been into Muggle music though, and he's got players and speakers that don't short out around wizards and can work without the need for electrical outlets. And his CD collection is huge. He did a nice job at my Muggle sister's Leavers' Ball last year."

Hermione waived Blaise's attention to Vicky. "Okay, so work with Vicky on getting her cousin in here if the live band thing falls down."

Zabini looked stumped. "What's a DJ?"

She sighed and gave him the exaggerated, short definition. "It's a Muggle term for a musical genius who can play a variety of good, hip music on really great sound equipment."

Blaise raised an eyebrow at that, but remained silent and simply nodded.

She looked at Ernie wryly. "In the meantime, we'll go back to Professor Dumbledore and the staff and see if we can't beg off some extra money and to talk to him about the press coming here. After that, I'll speak with _The Daily Prophet_ and _Witch Weekly _about covering the Yule Ball."

The compromises and suggestions seemed to renew the energies of the Committee Chair Heads and their staff, and they adjourned the meeting on a high note at exactly ten o'clock – which was fortunate for Adam Urquhart, Donald Harper and Adrian Pucey because they were all members of Slytherin's Quidditch main and alternate teams, respectively, and were required to go out to the pitch for their weekly practice session just then.

"Nice job," Ernie commended her, putting a hand on her shoulder as he moved off. "No wonder you're called the Bright One." Hermione blushed, shook her head modestly, and gathered her things. People filed out, talking animatedly once more about the work ahead, until Hermione was, at last, alone.

Or at least she thought she was.

"I get it now," Blaise's deep, rumbly voice behind her made her jump slightly.

She composed herself, turned to him, and slung her satchel over her shoulder. "Get what?"

Zabini looked at her evenly, arms crossed, leaning casually against the door frame, his large body blocking the way out. "Why he likes you so much."

Hermione blinked in confusion. "Who?"

"Drake."

The name hung between them, and Hermione felt her face light up. Just hearing Draco referred to brought back memories of the other night and what they'd done. She looked down at her shoes like they were the most interesting new discovery in the whole world. "Oh."

She felt Blaise's dark chocolate eyes measuring her pointedly. "And Nott."

She swallowed. "What's Teddy have to do with anything?" she asked, feeling her heart skip a beat. There was a pause. Squirming in discomfort at the scrutiny she could feel like a weight between her shoulders, she finally looked up to find Zabini still barring the path out of the room, his face unreadable. "I'm seeing Draco."

The ebony-skinned man snorted. "Yeah, I think Theo's aware of that, too, Granger." With that, he turned and walked away.

Hermione had to sit for a minute to allow her knees the chance to stop knocking together. Was Zabini insinuating that Teddy might have feelings for her? She knew they were sort-of friends, but… that he _like_ liked her was a whole different matter unto itself.

Really, it shouldn't matter a whit. After all, she'd fallen for Draco. He was perfect – everything she wanted… Except he didn't want her back. At least not long term. Not as far as she could tell, anyway. What they were doing, it was only short-term. Wasn't it?

"_I won't be jealous of yours if you won't be jealous of mine."_

"_You… make me feel right again."_

"_You're brilliant, Hermione. So sexy, so passionate..."_

The words stabbed at her, because they'd been said with such sincerity, and they implied Draco felt something deeper than just a simple physical attraction for her. He even called her 'baby,' sometimes – an intimate pet name. Could it be possible for her boyfriend to eventually love her back?

_Stop looking for things that aren't there_, she chided herself forcefully.

All the fanciful wishes in the universe would not change the fact that Draco Malfoy was with her for fun only. He'd agreed to her terms so he could get well laid by a girl he'd trained for just such a purpose. He had a reputation that was well-earned for short-term romances (Megan Jones, who was a Prefect this year, went out of her way to seek Hermione out to kindly warn her – woman to woman - yesterday afternoon, that Malfoy had deflowered her and broken up with her after only three weeks together).

Still, knowing the truth, Hermione's heart could not help its longing for him. So, even if what Blaise hinted at was possible - that Teddy liked her - there was absolutely nothing she could do about that now. She'd made her choice.

She swiped away the hot tear that trickled down her cheek, squared her shoulders and left the library for her Common Room, deciding that she needed a short lie in.

* * *

**CHAPTER TEN: BLINDSIDED**

_**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland**_

_**Monday, November 10, 1997 - Wednesday, November 12, 1997**_

Ron was back from his sickbed on Monday, and he was picking fights with just about everyone.

To start, during the middle of breakfast, what beganas a simple discussion about Quidditch tactics with his little sister ended up morphing into a full out sibling name-calling session and screech-fest within ten short minutes - which cheese'd off Harry to no end.

Next, Ron had managed to anger Lavender, by cozying up to Hermione for support when Harry lightly smacked him upside the head and left the Dining Hall for his first classes without finishing breakfast. Brown was the jealous type and she'd made it no secret that she didn't like her boyfriend continuing to emotionally "cuddle" with his ex-girlfriend. In a huff, Lavender threw a rather nasty look at Ron, which, in turn, set him up to ask the _very_ un-politic question of her: "So, what's your problem?" At that point, Hermione had quickly grabbed Draco's hand and left for their first shared class together to avoid the inevitable loud and awful fallout, which could be heard just as their feet hit the Entrance Hall. Thankfully, Draco had the forethought to snatch up a few pieces of dry French Toast on the way out, and they shared them, eating with their fingers while walking to the dungeons for Advanced Potions Lab.

When she sat down at Gryffindor's table in the Great Hall at noon, Neville clamored over to her and told her all about how Ron had received a lunch-time detention from Professor Snape during their D.A.D.A. class for mouthing off when he couldn't answer a question unexpectedly thrown at him by the teacher. He was worried that there might be something wrong with Ron, as it seemed very uncharacteristic of him to be so openly snippy with Snape. At that point, Hermione started to suspect that Ron's bad mood wasn't from natural causes.

When her red-headed friend sat down across from her at dinner, he had a puffy, black eye and a split lip, and that's when she knew this was more than just a case of the dog gone rabid. "Ron, tell me what you ate and drank this morning," she demanded.

"The same bloody thing you did," he indignantly replied.

Draco opened his mouth to take Ron to task for speaking to her in such a tone, but her firm hand on his leg under the table stopped him abruptly from launching into what would indubitably be a prelude to another physical altercation.

Something had been wrong with Ron's tongue when he'd been speaking, she'd noticed. It didn't look right… She stood, walked all the way down the long table, looped around and came to Ron's side. "Tilt your head back and open your mouth for me," she commanded brusquely.

He fought her, of course, and so she was forced to resort to restraint to get what she wanted from him. Her wand flicked a few times, she thought the spell she wanted – having trained up considerably with non-verbals before the war – and suddenly, Ron was shoved back against the wall, where he stuck to it like glue. "Now, open your mouth or I'll make you," she threatened, pressing her wand to his chest. He cursed her, rather loudly and foully, so in the end, she'd had to pry open his jaws physically and pressed her nose close to his open mouth, sniffing. He coughed in her face, just to be a jackarse and she slapped him, wiping at her face in disgust.

There was only one herb in the world that changed the color of one's tongue to neon orange, made a person's breath smell very strongly of cloves and turned them into a flaming idiot to boot: Sneezewort. Someone must have slipped a large quantity in Ron's food or drink at breakfast without his knowledge. A very dangerous and stupid thing to do, as Sneezewort could enrage a person to the point of berserker madness if too much was ingested.

Hermione did something then she rarely did then: she cursed out loud.

"Gods damn it all to the flaming pits of Hades!"

Ignoring the gasps of astonishment around her, she took a deep breath and swung around, looking for a possible culprit. She found two guffawing heads conspiratorially pressed together over at Ravenclaw's table. "Terry Boot and Michael Corner!" she hissed under her breath, her eyes narrowing in instantaneous anger. "Well, we'll just see about that, shall we?"

She clomped past Ron to head back around the table, absently waving her wand behind her to release him from her _Mobilicorpus_ spell (he slumped to the ground rather hard behind her with a whiny, "Owwww! What'd you do that for, you bloomin' nutter?"), and stalked over to the two troublemakers in question. Seeing the wrathful Head Girl bearing down on them, Boot and Corner quickly hi-tailed it out of the dining hall as fast as their ungraceful Size 12's could pedal. Mocking laughter followed them out, along with a few whistles and one loud call from Seamus Finnegan for the two boys to "stop running like a bunch o' pussies."

Her prey escaped and still seething in fury, Hermione made her way back to her table. Draco gazed at her with a mixture of incredulity and amusement. "Don't say a word," she threatened him and he held his two hands up between them, shaking his head artlessly.

She turned to Ron impatiently. "Come on, Ronald. We need to get you up to Madam Pomfrey right away." When her friend made to argue with her, she simply pointed her wand at him again and set her jaw square, her eyes blazing wroth. Even with the effects of Sneezewort to goad him on, Ron wisely chose not to argue (a first that day). A pissed off Hermione was something not even he would tangle with, apparently. He sulkily picked up two rolls in passive aggressive defiance, however, stuffing them into his mouth as he stomped towards the exit, Hermione in tow, her wand on him the whole way.

She explained things to the Medi-Witch, an antidote was administered, and Ron was on his knees begging her forgiveness by the time they made to leave.

Hermione sighed in frustration, wondering if it was possible to pick up cross-contamination from Sneezewort through the air, as she was still really livid over the whole situation. "Really, Ron, I could care less how sorry you are right now. I want to know what you did to get Corner and Boot to pull such a nasty prank."

"I didn't do anything!" he protested. "They're probably still pisser they lost money on the last Quidditch match to me."

She couldn't believe her ears. "Gambling, Ron? Really? Please tell me even _you_ can't be that stupid. You _know_ it's against the rules!"

Ron hiked himself off his knees and stood towering over her, a tad defensive now. "So? George and Fred used to do it all the time. No one said nothing."

"Anything," she corrected automatically and with another sigh of frustration. "No one said _anything_. Merlin, you'd think you'd never attended school, you country bumpkin." She spun away from him, starting for the exit. She could feel Ron hot on her robe tails. "In any case, I'm going to have to deduct five points from both Gryffindor and Ravenclaw for this little indiscretion. And you'd better _hope_ that Professor Slughorn doesn't notice his stores of Sneezewort have been messed with. If you all get detention for it, questions will be raised, and the three of you might end up in serious trouble for placing bets. I can't cover for you all the time, Ron."

He mumbled something, and she whirled around huffily. "Did you say something?"

"I said, 'thank you,'" he reiterated, and she knew he was being sincere by the abashed look on his face.

"Well, you're welcome," she replied, satisfied that she'd made her point. She turned back then and they walked side by side down the long corridors towards the dining hall. Ron was quiet until they got to the stairs.

"Listen, 'Mione," he began, clearing his throat. "About you and Malfoy…"

Hermione felt the imaginary bristles on the back of her neck rise in readiness for battle.

"If the guy makes you as happy as you've seemed all week," he charged on, clearly needing to say his peace. "Then… I guess it's okay if you date him."

Her initial reaction was anger at his arrogant presumption. But that was overcome immediately by profound relief. "Thank you, Ron. It means a lot to me that you're trying."

From the corner of her eye, she caught his blush lighting up the freckles on his face, and he rubbed one large, meaty hand over the back of his neck and smirked. "Didn't say I liked the guy," he amended. "Just that I want you happy."

This was a giant leap in her ex-'s maturity, she thought, and so gave him an encouraging smile and took his hand to squeeze it in thanks. First Harry and now Ron. Perhaps today had some redeeming value left to it?

As they hit the bottom of the stairs, Draco was there, obviously on his way up to meet her. He took one look at her holding Ron's hand and froze. One moment he was animated, the next, deadly still, watching her neutrally, coolly. Letting go of Ron, she walked up to Draco and put her arms around his neck. "Sorry for snapping at you earlier," she whispered in his ear and nuzzled his neck.

He did not hug her back.

Her heart skipped a beat in slowly growing anxiety. Had he mistaken her affectionate gesture with Ron for something more? She hadn't done anything wrong, so why should her stomach suddenly have plummeted just now?

Ron walked past with an oblivious, "See ya," over his shoulder and left them alone. The corridor was empty except for the two of them.

She pulled back and looked at him. "What's wrong?"

His steel orbs peered at her frostily. "Why were you holding his hand?"

Hermione blinked. Ah, so her touching Ron _had_ bothered him. But why? Was he jealous? No, it couldn't be… "To say 'thank you' to him for accepting us finally."

Draco stared at her coldly. "Couldn't you have just said 'thanks for not being a wanker anymore'? You didn't need to handle him."

Her eyes widened. He _was_ jealous! "You know Ron and I are only friends, right? There's absolutely nothing between us."

"Except a past," he pointed out.

She took one step back hesitantly, but her ire returned in her defense, making her voice harsher than she'd expected. "I already told you that I don't feel that way for him anymore. Don't you believe me?"

He blinked and said nothing, staring her down, measuring her with those penetrating eyes. For a moment, he looked like his father, and she unconsciously took another small half step back. Her blood pounded in her ears now, her heart stuck in her throat made it hard to breathe.

Without a word, Draco spun on his heel and stalked away, his long legs taking him out of sight within moments.

What had just happened?

Confused and feeling decidedly unwell in her tummy –it was tumbling her dinner around maniacally – Hermione stood alone now in the hallway, unsure as to what to do. It was a decidedly unfamiliar sensation for her. Usually, she had a firm idea as to what she wanted and how to achieve it, but it seemed that ever since she'd hooked her wagon to Draco Malfoy, nothing she thought made any sense anymore.

She wasn't sure how long she stood there, staring down at her feet, her mind whirling and her fingertips and toes cold, before Professor Snape came upon her. At his side was Teddy Nott.

"Miss Granger, I assume you're standing out here in the hallway with a purpose?" Snape growled at her, his face calculatingly cold, as usual.

His voice snapped her out of her reverie. "Umm… yes, I was … just on my way back from hospital." She stood aside.

"Are you okay?" Teddy asked, hurrying to her side, his face decidedly concerned. "You look… pale."

Hermione stared up at his alarmed mismatched eyes and felt her gut clench. Immediately following that response, she began to shake. Shock. She was in shock. "I'm… okay. I just need food. That's all."

"Dinner is long over, Miss Granger," Snape informed her, looking at her with narrowed eyes. "But perhaps you could persuade one of the house elves for some leftovers." He gave her a knowing smirk. "You seem to have them all charmed well enough to break the rules."

Absently, she nodded. "Yes, I'll just go to the kitchens." She started off, her body numb, her mind distracted with a riot of thoughts.

Why was she so bothered by a simply fight with Malfoy? It's not like they hadn't had them a million times before... Except it was all different now; his words and actions actually _meant _something to her, whereas before this summer, they had just been insults to endure. His displeasure in this case, even if misplaced, hurt her feelings in a way she hadn't ever experienced before, not even when he'd first referred to her as "Mudblood" so many years ago.

It was obvious: she was in over her head and sinking fast. The fact that Draco could wound her so seriously over something so unimportant was a flashing danger sign in her mind. But what could she do to save her heart from such upset - not date him anymore? The thought of seeing him every day and not knowing his warm fingers entwining with hers, not feeling his cool lips pressing against her mouth, not sharing laughter with him over some private joke stabbed at her agonizingly. Tears leaked out of her eyes.

Godric, help her if she felt this way now, she was going to be _destroyed_ when he dumped her in forty-five days…

She stopped and leaned against the nearest wall, covering her face with her hands and sobbed.

Teddy found her like that, obviously having followed her, and the next thing she knew, he was holding her. She accepted his comfort and cried her tears into his vest with loud, hiccupping sobs. He didn't say anything to her at first, just waited patiently for her storm to wash by. After, he handed her his kerchief and stepped back when she was more controlled.

"You have a fight with Drake?" he asked gently.

She nodded her head. "This isn't like me," she stammered, trying to apologize for burdening him. "I'm usually more levelheaded." The weight of his stare was heavy on her as she used the small square of white cotton to dab at her eyes and nose as delicately as possible.

"You're in love with him."

It wasn't a question. Hermione dropped the cloth from her face and stared at the floor between them, unable to answer and unsure as to why not.

"It's okay, Granger," he murmured softly. "Every girl falls in love with him eventually."

She tried to hand his hanky back, but he shook his head. "Launder it and give it back later," he sadly teased.

"Thank you," she lamely replied, tucking the cloth in between her fingers to hold onto.

"Can I offer some advice?" Teddy asked hesitantly as she started to turn away. She nodded. "He broke up with the others because they weren't strong enough for him. They gave in too easily. If you want him, fight back. He respects strength."

She looked at him, their eyes connecting, an understanding between them in that moment. Yes, Teddy liked her… more than liked her. She saw that truth in his sad face – as he'd allowed, finally. But her heart was already spoken for, and he knew it now - as she'd allowed. "Thank you, Teddy," she whispered, her heart aching for him. "You really are a wonderful friend."

As she made her way around him, she heard his reply, so softly spoken it was little more than a tremor on the air, but to her sharp hearing, it had been undeniable.

"No, I'm not."

In a foul mood since his fight with Granger, Draco ruthlessly worked his Quidditch team over on Monday night at practice, criticizing each flaw and demanding repeated perfection before releasing them at nine o'clock. He ignored the groans and grumbling from his fellow Snakes as he'd put his gear in his gym bag and made for the small work-out room attached to the Quidditch pitch, where he spent the next two hours brutalizing himself. Exhausted from his self-imposed physical punishment, he hadn't even bothered to shower after coming back to the dorms around eleven; he just threw his clothes off and climbed into his bed, out for the count as soon as his head hit the pillow.

_Granger was moaning in that husky voice of hers as he pushed her to lie back against the blanket and let his hands roam over her naked breasts, rubbing her nipples in slow circles with his thumbs, all the while kissing her fiercely. They were both naked, and a light sheen of perspiration coated their skins as the humid summer night at his Manor House in Wiltshire was untamed by any breeze. He crawled down and rested in the 'v' of her golden, silky thighs and delved his mouth right in, combining her natural flavor with the dollop of rich, sweet whipping cream he'd playfully worked through her curls with his fingers earlier. "Yes," she whimpered over and over as he ate her out with gentle swipes of his tongue and tiny nips of his teeth, holding her hips tightly screwed against his face. Her fingers ran through his white-blond hair, tugging and smoothing, urging him on with pleading mewling sounds as he lathed every inch of her pink, moist core. After a dozen passes, she climaxed with a loud shout of his name, and he drank the rush of warm juices up greedily, letting her salty fluid slide down his throat, inhaling deeply her musky fragrance as his nose pressed directly against her rosy lips. When she lay sated, her breathing restored to normal, he turned to give her left hand a loving kiss. His titanium serpent ring's emerald eyes sparkled at him from her fourth finger and he smiled up at her._

'_Mine.' _

_The word echoed in his head, chasing him up into consciousness…_

Draco awoke with a start, his heart pounding in his chest, his whole body vibrantly thrumming with the need to find immediate sexual release. He glanced around; the room was empty, his roommates long gone, and there were no sounds coming from the hallway outside to indicate other people immediately nearby.

Without further ado, he grabbed his cock under the crisp, cotton sheets and began pumping his fist up and down to his favorite rhythm and with just the right amount of pressure, closing his eyes and recalling in his mind the other day when he'd penetrated Granger's beautiful pussy. The exquisite, acute pressure he'd experienced as the head of his penis had been surrounded by her moist, wet flesh had almost undone him, and it had only been with extreme control that he'd managed not to come in her right then and there. He recalled how it felt to slowly pulse in and out of her just a bit, the suction of teasing her entrance, inching his way past her hymen, touching it, stretching it with extreme sensitivity. It had been unequivocal heaven, and he'd wanted so badly to finish it then… He may not have completely torn her barrier that day, but technically he'd still taken Granger's virginity, as he'd been the very first man to enter her sweet, tight kitty. She'd given herself up to him _willingly_.

That knowledge brought him over the edge and he orgasmed all over his hand and belly with a rapturous, low groan in his throat, his teeth clenched in painful ecstasy, his heart hammering under his ribs.

After coming back down to earth and cleaning up the mess with his wand, Draco stared up at the dark green fabric canopy hanging equidistant from the four tall wooden posts of his bed frame, having decided to lie in and skip his morning class - Muggle Studies, a subject he didn't really care much about, honestly. He was now feeling decidedly ill, after having had such an awesome release. And the reason was simple: he knew what that last dream inescapably meant for him.

This could _not _be happening.

When had the game changed on him exactly?

He didn't rightly know.

The only thing he _could _say for certain was that he had fallen for Hermione Granger.

"Bloody, bloody, _BLOODY _hell," he muttered, closing his eyes and groaning. Not even three weeks in the pond, and he'd tumbled off the log entirely. How could he have fucking _let_ this happen?

Ironically, "fucking" was the operative word. It was all because he'd wanted to stick his dick into her that any of this had become even remotely possible.

Maybe these feelings he had for her… maybe they were what the Muggles called pheromones? Or maybe he just _really _needed to get fully and truly laid (it _had _been since the end of June, nearly five months ago)? Or maybe it was simply a case of new relationship, rose-colored infatuation?

Yeah, any of those sounded plausible for what was going on in his chest.

Only they didn't. Not really.

They didn't, for instance, clarify why he'd moved Hermione into kissing so soon, when he knew that was something he usually waited to do with a girl until after the fucking, and then only if he kind of liked the chick enough to want to share something that intimate with her. Those excuses also didn't elucidate why he'd run to Hermione when he'd been feeling like he wanted to murder something, and why her presence alone had helped him retain sanity. They definitely didn't justify why he'd stopped moving in her body just as he'd been a gnat's wing away from getting what he really wanted that afternoon in her room. And they couldn't possibly explain why he'd been so gods damned jealous when he'd seen her holding the Weaselbee's hand yesterday.

Slytherin Almighty, he was really in love with her, wasn't he?

_So, now what?,_ he thought, sending his query up into the sky. _What the hell am I supposed to do?_ She'd set a time limit on their "relationship" and made it clear that by December twenty-fifth, this thing between them would be over for good, and he wasn't getting the feeling from her that the arrangement had changed any. But… he didn't want this thing between them to end; he wanted to keep seeing her.

Hell, who was he kidding? After yesterday, he might not even have to worry about a Christmas deadline, anyway. Granger just might decide to dump his arse flat today when she saw him in their three-hour Transfiguration Lecture later that afternoon.

Fuck.

What the hell was he going to say to make up for such a stupid screw-up, without letting her on to his real feelings?

He wanted to tear his hair out in frustration, and reminded himself again that this was _exactly_ why Draco Malfoy never got in deep with women. They tied a guy up in knots.

He sighed and looked over towards the window. His dorm room was a level above the lake, so there was sunlight streaming through one of the two casement windows. Fathoming a guess by the intensity of the light, he figured it must be sometime after ten o'clock. He wished he knew the exact time, however, just so he could mark his calendar correctly. That way he'd never forget the precise moment he'd officially become pussy whipped.

When Hermione didn't come down to the dining hall at lunch, Draco walked alone to Slytherin's table and ate in relative quiet, not engaging his gang in conversation, his mind instead turning over plans to make amends with his girlfriend at the beginning of next class.

He couldn't just outright apologize first; that would make him look like a lovesick idiot, and he was worried she'd take advantage of the power she had over him if she figured out how he really felt about her. Therefore, he'd decided to treat the whole thing like it had been no big deal. He'd just be his unflappable, suave self, waltz in and kiss her on the cheek, then sit next to her and chat her up. From all the alternatives he'd turned over, it was the plan with the least drawbacks and the most positive outcome. He'd go with it, and hoped it worked.

Leaving a little earlier than necessary and lounging against the classroom's inside wall next to the door, he was hoping to catch her right as she entered and just before she sat down. Needless to say, he was shocked when she walked in with Teddy, the two of them laughing and talking energetically, her hand falling on his arm in a familiar way at something he said. That same burning jealousy Draco had encountered yesterday illogically wound its way through his heart and he moved quickly to intercept her.

"Granger, can I speak to you?" he asked a little more roughly than he'd intended, coming along her right side and stopping her with a hand on her shoulder.

Immediately, her conversation with Teddy stopped and she turned to give Draco her full attention. The look she gave him was indecipherable, her voice completely neutral when she spoke. "What can I do for you, Malfoy?"

Malfoy was it? She hadn't called him that in a while…

Teddy, he noticed, stuck to Hermione's side like glue, refusing to give them privacy. This irritated Draco something fierce, and he knew he was acting irrationally, but he couldn't seem to help himself. All of his plans for cool detachment went right out that window at that point. "Sit with me today." It was a command, not a request and it sounded too desperate and angry, even to his ears.

Hermione stared at him evenly for a moment, but then her eyes narrowed slightly in warning. "Being next to me for three hours would be an unwise move right now, Malfoy," she commented steely, a fiery gleam in her eye. "You insulted my honor, and I'm not feeling particularly forgiving right now." She turned and took the seat next to Teddy, who seemed decidedly embarrassed about being in the middle of their quarrel.

Draco was floored. This was not the reaction he was expecting. He thought they'd smooth things over without difficulty… but then, this was Granger, and nothing was _ever_ easy with her because she _always_ pushed back. He grit his teeth and took the chair directly behind her, glaring at the back of her head for the whole three hours. For her part, she seemed completely oblivious to his ire, and instead took copious notes while McGonagall droned on at the front of the class, occasionally writing things down on the board with white chalk.

When class ended, Hermione gathered up her things and headed out without a glance in his direction. Draco actually growled, shoved his notebook, quill and inkpot into his bag and made to follow her out when Teddy's hand on his arm stopped him. "She's really pissed at you right now, mate," her friend cautioned. "I'd give her space."

Feeling snappish, he turned on his friend, his voice furiously low. "And what do you know of it?"

Nott just stared him down with those mismatched eyes calmly, refusing to be baited into the fight that Draco was looking to start. "Don't you have N.E.W.T. Prep now anyway?"

Swearing under his breath, he turned on his heel and stalked out to head to his final class for the day, wondering again how in the hell he'd gotten into this whole mess to begin with… and how he planned to get out of it before Hermione dropped him flat.

Draco spent all of dinner watching her, wanting to approach, but his pride prevented him. He was afraid of getting shot down, honestly. So, instead, he glared at her from across the room, hoping she'd notice. She didn't even look his way once.

Miserably, he finished his meal, picked himself up and made for his rooms to collect his workout gear. Five hundred crunches ought to burn the stupid right out of him, he figured.

On Wednesday morning, Teddy worked with Draco and Dean Thomas on pruning Alihotsy, each man wearing their thick Herbology gloves to touch the shiny leaves, careful not to get any near their faces or on their skins. Granger, Teddy noted, was on the other side of the room working with Neville Longbottom and Seamus Finnegan on their own plant. She looked in their direction only once, obviously peeking over at her boyfriend, and Teddy caught a shaky glove smooth her hair back from her sweaty forehead and immediately knew she'd unthinkingly made a very bad mistake, so distracted was she by her worries over her relationship with Drake.

Running across the room quickly, he got to her just as she started screaming. Tossing off his own gloves, careful not to touch the fingertips, he reached for his wand in his robes and cast _Petrificus Totalus_ on her. She froze up and started tumbling over, and he caught her the second before she smashed into the greenhouse table. Professor Sprout was at their side in an instant.

"She touched a glove to her forehead," he explained quickly. "I saw it happen."

Sprout reached into her robes and pulled out a vial with a blue stopper, which she popped off. "Fast thinking, Mr. Nott," the teacher commended him. "Twenty points to Slytherin." She took her own wand out and pointed it at Hermione. "When I release her from the petrification, she's going to start screaming again. I'll need you to hold her down and force her jaw open so I can pour this Glumbumble Treacle down her throat to counteract the poison."

Teddy shook his head. "I can hold her, but someone else is going to have to open her mouth."

Draco knelt at his side. "I got it." He steadied his ungloved hands to grab her jaw and chin.

"Ready?" Pomona asked, and the two young men nodded simultaneously. She waved her wand and spoke the counter charm. "_Finite Incantatem_."

Immediately, Hermione unfroze and her piercing scream shattered the utterly silent room. Draco grabbed her roughly and forced her mouth to stay open as the Professor poured the gooey, yellow-orange treacle down her throat. At Sprout's nod, Draco slammed her jaws shut and held her nose. "Swallow it, Granger," he commanded her as she fought like a wildcat. She eventually ingested the substance, and Draco let her go as she struggled to breathe. As the madness was still upon her, however, she bit his forearm and he simply grunted and pushed his arm into her, forcing her to either bite harder and choke or let him go. Self-preservation made her body automatically react and choose the latter course.

The antidote took effect a minute later, and her screams trailed off into heartbreaking sobs. Draco took her gently from Teddy's arms then and held her to his chest, rocking her back and forth and shushing her. She clung fiercely to him, crying and hiccupping at the same time.

"She should be taken to Madam Pomfrey right away," Professor Sprout indicated and Draco gathered his girlfriend against his chest, placed one arm under her knees, while the other supported her back, and with a great pull of all of his muscles, he stood and carried her out. Harry got the door for him, and he nodded in thanks. "Get her bag, will you?" he asked Potter, and then they were gone.

Teddy stood on shaky legs. Alihotsy was nothing to mess around with, as it caused extreme hysteria – which was why only teachers and Seventh Year students were allowed to actually go near the plant at Hogwarts. He was worried for Granger's sanity, which would surely be very fragile right now, especially given the fact that she'd been emotional wrought before the accident.

Behind him, Pomfrey was instructing everyone to go back to work and to learn from this mistake, urging extreme caution for the remainder of the class. Once more, she came to Teddy's side and congratulated him on his quick wittedness and then encouraged him to finish up his project with Dean. He received an automatic "O" for the lesson, despite not completing all of the assigned tasks before it was time to clean-up for the day.

As he was leaving the greenhouse, Potter stopped him. "Don't worry for 'Mione," he tried for reassuring. "She'll be fine. She's tougher than most people think. Still, I'll skip our D.A.D.A. class to stay with her this afternoon." Teddy and Harry shared the same schedule on Wednesdays, he knew.

"What about Snape?" Teddy asked, knowing the man held very little love for Potter, and that ditching Severus' class would most likely end in a detention… or five.

Potter shrugged. "I can handle him. Just share notes with me later, okay?"

Teddy nodded, knowing that this was for the best. Spending too much time in the presence of Draco and Hermione would just depress him, and he could maybe manipulate things with Snape so his Professor would understand the necessity of Harry missing class and not come down too hard on the guy. "Okay. Tell her… I hope she gets better soon."

Harry nodded. "Will do." With that, he left with Hermione's bag slung over one shoulder, his own on the other. Teddy sighed then followed him out.

It had been nice to save the girl for once. For the first time in his life, Teddy felt like a real hero.

In his heart of hearts, though, he knew that it would be Drake who would be getting the "credit" from Granger for the save. Their two day love spat would finally come to an end. And he'd go back to being a wallflower to her once more.

Hermione woke in hospital. She recognized the place instantly, having spent her fair share of time in the Ward over the last seven years.

"Hey, baby."

She looked to her left and Draco was sitting at her side, his face a mask of relief.

"How you feeling?"

He brought a hand to her forehead and rubbed a finger across the skin. It stung like needles and she hissed. Aside from that, the rest of her appeared to be fine. She wiggled her fingers and toes, blinked a few times towards the ceiling to make sure her vision was good, and then tried her voice.

"Okay, but my throat is sore and my forehead stings." She sounded raw, and it hurt to talk.

"Yeah, you touched yourself with Alihotsy on your glove," he explained. "Do you remember any of it?"

Yes, of course she recalled the moment everything changed: she'd been staring at Draco in class, and then suddenly, rusty-brown, noxious-colored blood ran down her vision, coating him. The next instant, she was back in the hallway, and he was staring at her with cold eyes. Then, he turned and walked away from her, and it _hurt_. Only the hurt had been magnified a million fold, to the point where she felt her soul was being ripped from her very body.

She shut her eyes to stop the panicked sorrow from taking hold of her again, and flashes of memory unexpectedly attacked from every angle, causing her body to spasm violently: blood sprayed against the wall as an Auror fell to Dolohov's Curse; Nagini lunged at her with fangs fully extended for the kill, but suddenly there was Dobby apparating in mid-air to catch her, being bitten in her stead and falling to the floor dead in seconds; Macnair crumbled in an unconscious heap as she cursed him to save Ron; Bellatrix Lestrange cast the Cruciatus Curse on her and there was _such pain_ through all her nerve endings that she begged for death; Voldemort's bone wand stroked her cheek while his other hand wrapped bony fingers around her throat and he held her hostage to try to trick Harry into coming out into the open… Every memory was real in sight, sound, taste, smell, touch – and it was so overpowering that it crushed her again and again, smashing into her psyche brutally.

"Granger?" Draco's voice came to her out of the sound void, and warm hands clamped down on her shoulders, pinning her to the bed. "Madam Pomfrey, come quick!"

She continued to buck, unable to open her eyes, a violent, suffocating hysteria gripping her heart once more, and she wailed, crying again, powerless to find her way out from underneath the pain.

"_DRACO!_" she screamed his name over and over again, unable to think of anything but him walking away from her in that hallway on Monday, his face closed off, her heart broken by his rejection. "NO, NO, NO!" she moaned repeatedly.

Suddenly, her lips were being forced open again, something cold and tasting like the most disgustingly sweet honey on the planet drizzled down her throat in gobs, and then her mouth was shut and Draco was demanding she swallow once more. She shook her head, her fingers looking for purchase to push him away, but he was so much stronger than she. He could crush her so easily!

Despair at her pathetic weakness rose up. Despondency over her ineffectualness gnawed away at her courage. This felt the same as that day… when Bellatrix had kept her pinned under her Unforgivable Curse and later, when Voldemort had used her as bait to ensnare her best friend. She'd been wretchedly pitiable then; she was even more so now.

_Unqualified witch! _

_Incompetent Mudblood! _

_Unworthy friend! _

Such thoughts continued to torture her relentlessly, while images from the back of her memory bombarded her until she wanted to vomit from the vileness and wickedness of everything evil and wrong and bad she'd witnessed through the course of her short life.

Her head was forcibly tilted back and she had no choice but to gulp down the concoction in her mouth or choke to death. As soon as she swallowed, the hands on her head let her go… but the effect this time was even more violent than before. She thrashed around, turning on her side and grabbing her stomach, kicking, screaming until she began coughing up coppery acid bile in great, heaving gasps. The images in her head faded out, but now it felt like she was burning up inside.

"She's having a reaction to the treacle!" an older woman's voice came through the fog. "Hold her down. I have to get the counter-agent."

Shoved onto her back once more by unfriendly hands, she struggled, wanted to desperately curl up into herself just to make the pain go away, but two hands grabbed her ankles and put pressure on them while another set did the same with her arms and shoulders again.

"I'm here, baby," Draco's voice soothed nearby. "Stop fighting me."

Hermione was ill all the way down to her guts. "It hurts," she whined in between tears, tiredly flopping around now as her strength drained from her quickly. "_It hurts_. Draco… help. Make it stop. Please… _ANYTHING_!"

She felt a cool cheek pressed against hers as she panted, trying to catch her breath. "I will, I promise," he spoke gently in her ear. "We're getting you medicine right now, Hermione. Just breathe with me, okay? Breathe." His low, soothing voice had a calming effect, and she focused on it, trusted it. She took a deep breath with him and it spiked pain all the way into her spine, but she did it. Once, twice, three times. "That's it, baby. Just keep breathing with me," he encouraged.

She wasn't sure of time passing, and she couldn't see, her eyelids slammed shut against her will, so she did what she could: focused on breathing and tried to close off the pain. Draco kept crooning to her in her ear, and she followed his instructions.

"We've got the medicine to get you better now," he explained suddenly. "Open your mouth so the nurse can give it to you, okay?"

Hermione weakly did as bade, and this time, a cool, minty flavor passed her tongue and she swallowed convulsively. Within a minute or two, the blistering in her mid-section was gone and her spasms ceased; her eyelids still remained fervently shut, however, despite her best attempts to open them. The hands on her legs let go and Draco's hold on her shoulders let up.

"How do you feel?" a familiar voice asked her off to her right.

She turned her head. "Harry? I feel better, but I can't open my eyes. What's going on?"

There was dead silence in the room for several seconds.

"'Mione, what do you see right now?" Harry asked her tentatively.

She shook her head. "I can't see anything. I told you: my lids won't let up."

More silence.

Something was _really_ wrong.

"What is it?" she asked, suddenly very afraid.

"Baby," Draco's hand on her chin turned her head towards him, his voice was soft, but there was a tremor of fear underneath she picked up on. "Your eyes are wide open."

Hermione pulled her face away from Draco's touch, suddenly irate with him. "Nonsense!" she affirmed strongly. "Draco, look, I know you're really angry with me for the other day, but that was all a misunderstanding. I don't feel that way about Ron, okay? He's just my friend. I told you that. This kind of thing… to get back at me… it isn't funny."

There was a rather long, suspicious pause as she finished her denunciation.

"'Mione, Malfoy's not lying to you," Harry informed her, his voice tight. "Your eyes are open."

Hermione's world started crumbling around her. What? No… that wasn't right. She was insistent that Harry and Draco had to be incorrect. It was ridiculous. She couldn't be… "No, I'm fine," she shook her head resolutely. "It must be a result of all of the philters I just took working together. Just give me some room. I'll be fine in a few minutes."

"Miss Granger," Madam Pomfrey spoke to her somewhere off to her left. "You had a reaction to either the Alihoxy or the Treacle antidote. I'm not sure which, but I'd like to do some tests. If we can determine the cause, we may be able to treat the symptom of your blindness."

She clenched her fists in her lap. "Don't say that word!" she hissed in anger, her terror bristling her temper. "I'm not that! _I'M NOT!_"

No one answered her; she could literally feel the auras of discomfort and pity as a palpable thing on her tongue and it enraged her further, made her almost irrationally snap at everyone around her to stop being so thick witted and depressing…

And that's how she figured it out.

"Sneezewort."

"What?" That came from Madam Pomfrey.

Hermione tried to locate the direction the Medi-Witch was in, so she could at least stare at the right angle. "On Monday, I brought Ron Weasley here for Sneezewort treatment, remember? I think I may have been exposed to it, too. I've been feeling very… angry and overly emotional since then."

"But Sneezewort doesn't cause a reaction as you experienced," Professor Sprout countered from near the end of the bed. "It makes one angry, not hysterical. Definitely not bli… ahem… go without sight."

Hermione shook her head. "On its own, but I remember hearing once on the "_Toots, Shoots 'n' Roots_" radio program that Sneezewort, Lovage and Scurvy-grass all inflame the judgment and sensation parts of the brain, and that any mind-altering herb used in conjunction with them could cause a variety of negative reactions. Alihotsy is a hysteria-inducing plant. It _definitely_ alters the mind by attacking the judgment section of the brain, just like Sneezewort. However, instead of rage, it triggers fear. It also goes after the memory section, causing a person to relive painful and scary moments in their life." She reached a hand up and pressed it against her forehead. "I never got treated for Sneezewort poisoning, so I think it somehow worsened the effect of the Alihotsy on me. I started having terrifying flashbacks to the war at the same time as everything went black. That increased pressure in my head… well, it makes sense that something had to shut down temporarily."

Madam Pomfrey took a deep breath and let it out. "Well, that would also explain why you had a reaction to the Glumbumble Treacle. Sneezewort requires a Calming Draught to fix its effects, but the Treacle works by creating heightened happiness. The two emotions are at loggerheads." A warm, comforting hand touched her shoulder and she knew it belonged to the older witch. "Thank goodness your memory wasn't impaired, Miss Granger. Now that we know a probable cause, I think there's a way to treat the blindness. If we eradicate the effect of the Sneezewort in your system, you should regain your sight as soon as the brain's inflammation decreases."

"How long will that take?" Draco asked, his voice gruff, as if he'd been holding back tears.

"A few days. By the weekend she should be fine."

There were three loud, relieved breaths in the room to match Hermione's own. "Thank Godric," she prayed.

"Well, now that we have a place to start, I'll go retrieve a Calming Draught," Madam Pomfrey explained and Hermione heard the woman quickly move off.

Professor Sprout cleared her throat. "Yes, well, I have duties to attend to," she explained. "I'll check on your progress with Madam Pomfrey later, Miss Granger." The tiny, plump witch cleared her throat again. "I expect you won't be in class later today for the N.E.W.T. Prep, but I certainly hope you'll be well enough by next Wednesday. Be well, dearie." The click-clack of heels on the stone floor was loud as Professor Sprout made her exit.

"Draco?" Hermione asked, putting her left hand out at chest level.

He caught it, and brought it up to his lips to kiss her knuckles. "I'm here, Granger," he reassured her, then tucked her fingers into his and brought them against his heart.

"Will you stay?" she asked simply, hoping he'd agree.

"Of course, baby," he consented without hesitation.

She turned to where she thought her best male friend was. "Harry? Do you have my bag?"

"Right here, 'Mione," Harry confirmed, and she heard him shift something – her satchel, presumably - around.

Hermione hesitated, and then plunged ahead with her request. "Can you hand me my wand out of it, please? I just… need to feel it." There was a rustling sound and then the familiar touch of smoothed vine wood pressing against her fingertips once more brought immediate relief, much as Draco's hand had, and she breathed a heavy sigh of relief, gripping both of her beloved "items" tightly in her two hands. "Thank you," she whispered, feeling hot tears gather in her eyes and streak down her cheeks. She sniffed in amazement, reaching up to touch her cheek with the hand that held her wand. "That's funny, I can feel them, but I can't see them. Isn't that odd?"

Draco crushed her to his chest then, holding her as if he would never let her go and she pressed her nose into his neck and let his unique scent wash over her.

"I… I'm going to go, 'Mione," Harry hesitantly explained. "I'm sure the word is out all over the school about what happened in class by now, and I want to let everyone know you're going to be okay."

She nodded against Draco's shoulder tiredly. "Okay. And Harry, thank you. For being here for me."

There was a pause. "I'll always be there for you, 'Mione. You know?" With that, she heard him move off, his dress shoes ticking away swiftly, marking his exit from the long, hallowed room.

Draco continued to hold her, and now he was stroking her hair, nuzzling her cheek. "Do you need anything?" he whispered in her ear. "Is there anything I can do?"

She shook her head. "Just keep holding me, Draco. Don't let go."

He kissed her throat, her jaw, her cheek and then her lips. "I'm sorry."

She gave a small, sad laugh. "This wasn't your fault. I'm the one who touched the glove to my fool head."

"Not about today," he explained. "I mean about Monday. I didn't trust you, and I'm sorry," and he bent his head and kissed her tenderly, a soft pull of lips. He pressed his forehead to hers. "Forgive me?"

Hermione tried to turn this bad situation around, giving him a smile. "Only if you promise to sneak back in here tonight and stay with me," she schemed in a whisper. "It's Wednesday and it's our night, and I'm not giving up time with you because of this."

He fervently embraced her again. "Christ, Granger… you're… you're _fucking amazing_." He huffed a little in wry amusement. "Yes, I'll come to be with you tonight. Although, I think lessons are on hiatus for a bit. We can just hold each other."

"And kiss," she nuzzled him again. "I want you to kiss me. I need to practice for that "Outstanding" I have yet to earn."

She felt his smile against her cheek. "Your wishes are mine to give, baby."

Madam Pomfrey came back with the Calming Draught within the hour, which Hermione ingested with more than a few "Blechs!" and "Yucks!" in between each gulp, and then she laid down to sleep, the potion having a restive component added to it. Draco stayed with her as her mind fell into a serious sloom and Mr. Sandman paid her a much needed visit.

Draco stayed by Hermione's side as she slept most of the day away, skipping Quidditch practice, but sending a note ahead to his teammates to request they make up for tonight on Saturday afternoon instead. Then, at nine o'clock, Madam Pomfrey kicked him out, so he went to the Gryffindor Common Room looking for Potter. He was let in with much suspicion by Seamus Finnegan, who went off to find Harry in the boy's dorms for him.

While he waited, Draco shoved his hands in the pockets of his uniform pants and looked around the Tower Common Room of the Golden Lions for the first time. It was _much_ smaller than Slytherin's Common Room, but what it lacked in space and grandeur was made up for in quaintness. It had a charming, squire feel: lots of cozy, well-used furniture covered in plush pillows, tapestries on the walls and thick rugs on the floors. Bright reds and golds were the predominant colors in everything from stripes to paisley patterns. There was a roaring fire in a giant hearth that kept the room well lit and cheerful and a large, unmoving portrait of Godric Gryffindor above the mantle. It was a very informal room made for comfortably lounging and partying, not for formal entertaining, as his House's main area was so designated.

Potter came down and Draco whispered his favor to the guy, hoping their former enmity had been put aside where Hermione was concerned. To his relief, Scarhead acquiesced to Draco's request, and left to go back up to his room to retrieve the important item of the hour. When he came back down, the front of his shirt bulged slightly. Directing Draco outside the portrait and around a corner, Harry reached under his clothes and pulled out the Invisibility Cloak. "Keep it for as long as 'Mione's in hospital," his one-time rival offered. "But I'll want it back as soon as she's discharged, Malfoy. And don't use it for any other purpose. I trust you with this."

Draco was reaching for the cloak when he stopped himself. "Why?"

Harry blinked, seemed confused by the question. "Because she asked you to stay with her, and this is the only way you can without getting you both in trouble."

"So, for her, huh?" Draco asked, wanting to understand exactly the reason Potter had been so accepting of his relationship with Hermione from pretty much the get-go. It seemed somehow antithetical to how he'd expected the guy to behave.

Potter nodded. "For you both." He shoved the cloak into Draco's hands. "Don't get caught with it or we're all in trouble." With that, he turned and made his way back into his Common Room with a whisper of the password to his portrait.

Stunned, but not willing to look a gift horse in the mouth, Draco donned the Invisibility Cloak, making sure he was completely covered by hunkering down, and then he snuck back through the castle, passing unnoticed by two Prefects on their nightly rounds, Mrs. Norris (who was chasing a mouse down a corridor), and Professor Snape walking with Professor McGonagall. He had to actually pause and remain absolutely still as the two teachers passed by him, praying they didn't accidentally bump into him.

"Are you sure?" the Assistant Headmistress asked her companion, her face a mask of pain, and Snape nodded, his black eyes seeming to soften in the torch lit hallway.

"There's no doubt. The boy has until graduation, at the most."

McGonagall nodded. "Then by all means, take as much of the medicine as he needs. We'll just have Horace sell what he can to St. Mungo's now, and I'll ask Pomona to cultivate more for a spring harvest."

Snape paused in his walk and McGonagall stopped a step later. "I'd like to purchase the medicine he'll need from my own salary," Snape offered. When the old witch seemed to want to argue, Severus held up a hand. "_I insist_, Minerva."

McGonagall's aged face softened and she placed a warm hand on Snape's arm. "You are a good man, Severus. Thank you."

The two moved far off down the opposite hall and Draco could hear no more, but he couldn't help but wonder to whom were they referring? Some student at school was apparently very ill and it sounded like he (for Snape had said 'boy') was terminal. He hoped it was no one he knew.

He could give the situation no more thought though, the overwhelming compulsion to reach Hermione's side overcoming his natural inquisitiveness. He moved on as quickly and as quietly as he could.

Finally, with a non-verbal _Alohamora_, Draco snuck back into the medical ward, checking to make sure Madam Pomfrey was nowhere in sight. However, the woman had obviously gone off to her bed on the First Floor, which left him and Hermione completely alone in the Second Floor wing.

Walking on the edges of his shoes, he softly made his way over to Hermione and only when he was absolutely certain of their privacy did he remove the cloak from his shoulders, setting it on a nearby chair. He then charmed his wand to buzz when it was four a.m., so he could high-tail it out of there safely before the ward opened again at six. Then, removing his shoes, robes and vest, and laying them on the chair next to the Invisibility Cloak, he sat on the edge of the bed and watched Hermione sleep undisturbed a moment longer.

She was out for the count; in her right hand she gripped her wand tightly. His girlfriend _really_ trusted in magic, Draco realized startlingly, more so than anyone he'd ever known; believing in it so completely that it was her whole faith. A Muggle-born who truly loved enchantment; the idea was… beautiful - just as she was. His eyes drank in her features hungrily, even though she was half hidden in shadows, and the pale, cold moonlight coming through the tall, cathedral windows was rather dim. Her hair was its usual curly riot of muss upon her pillow, her long eyelashes dusted her cheeks, and her pretty lips were parted slightly as she breathed deeply in and out in an even rhythm. This sweet face – so honest and sincere - _this_ was why he felt for her as he did. He could admit it now and no longer resent the truth.

Reaching out he stroked her wild hair lightly. "I love you, Granger," he whispered and smiled at the irony of how good it felt to say those words out loud, even if he couldn't say them to her while she was awake.

With a last longing look, Draco slid onto the small hospital cot next to her, lying on his side, and he wrapped an arm around her, placing his wand between them. Snuggling his nose into her hair, he closed his eyes and breathed in her scent, taking comfort from her very presence, and promptly fell asleep.

_**

* * *

****AUTHOR'S NOTES:**_

**Just so you're aware, I didn't make up any student names for this fanfic. The names that are not novel canon come from the various, official "Harry Potter" video games.**


	6. Chapters 11 and 12

_**CHAPTER ELEVEN: THINGS I'LL NEVER SPEAK OF…**_

_**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland**_

_**Thursday, November 13, 1997 – Friday, November 14, 1997**_

Hermione's bedside was a flurry of activity for the next two days, as well-wishing teachers and students alike came to visit in between classes; the side tables of her small hospital space were filled with their get-well cards and presents.

Thursday morning, Dumbledore arrived first, during breakfast hours. The Headmaster inquired as to her health politely, and asked her how the planning for the Yule Ball was coming. She used the opportunity to pin him down about her idea for having the press cover the event, and he enthusiastically agreed that it sounded like a good solution overall. Reaffirming a great confidence in her abilities, he agreed to leave the planning and execution in her hands, and dropped off a bag of lemon-cherry drops on his way out.

Draco showed up minutes after, reminding her that his schedule on Thursday mornings was clear; he had afternoon classes only today. He stayed by her side for hours, reading through the cards and notes for her, and at her bidding, he opened up the gifts. They shared some walnut fudge that Molly Weasley had baked the night before and sent by owl to her immediately, and found Fred and George's gift of a backwards clock (the hands moved counter, and when one tried to fix them, they would get a light shock) to be quite amusing. Harry, Ron and Ginny came in at lunch and took over for her boyfriend, who left for a quick bite before his three-hour afternoon D.A.D.A. Lecture-Lab and one hour N.E.W.T. Prep class.

"Things seem to be going well between you and ferret-boy," Ginny slyly commented. "He seems sort of head over for you, 'Mione."

Hermione could feel her face heat-up. Her friends had no idea that the relationship between she and Draco was only temporary, so it was natural for them to assume that it was a typical boyfriend-girlfriend romantic pairing. She was loathe to tell them the truth, knowing that they would think badly of Malfoy again – which was something she absolutely didn't want. And if she was completely honest with herself, her ego couldn't handle telling them that she was, for lack of a better turn of phrase, "selling herself off" to Draco in exchange for his expert sexual tutelage, in some kind of licentious business arrangement.

That thought stopped her cold. Godric's heart, she hadn't actually considered it quite that way before. Could she be considered a… a hussy, then? After all, she'd bargained her virginity away for a _price_. Unexpected shame washed through her and she felt herself pale.

"'Mione? You okay?" Harry asked, his voice heightened slightly with concern.

She swallowed and rubbed a hand tiredly over her face. "I'm… I think I just need to rest for a bit," she stated, her fingers slightly trembling against her skin.

"Should I get Madam Pomfrey?" he asked, and she heard his chair scoot back quickly.

She shook her head firmly. "No, it's okay, Harry. I think… I just need to lie in quietly. It's been an exhausting week."

Her friends were still for a few seconds following her inferred request for them to leave, and she had the feeling that they were trading looks. "Well, then, we'll be off," Ron commented, clearly uncomfortable. "See you later, yeah?"

"Sure, and thanks for coming to see me," she replied somewhat distractedly, her mind already fretting over her revelation. She snuggled down under the covers and turned her head to the side.

"See you tomorrow," Ginny promised and patted Hermione's hand comfortingly.

"Rest well, 'Mione," Harry offered, and then she heard three pairs of shoes moving off towards the exit.

When her friends were gone, Hermione's mind started turning over, as it was wont to do whenever she was alone. What she was doing with Malfoy _felt_ right. If it hadn't, she wouldn't have come out so openly about it to the whole school. And yet, she couldn't shut off the conservative voice in her mind that reflected on how everyone would think differently if they only knew the particulars of her arrangement with him.

"_It's okay, Granger. Every girl falls in love with him eventually."_

Teddy had inadvertently warned her; she was falling into the same pattern as all of Draco's other conquests. And yet, she couldn't help herself. Her heart wanted what it wanted.

"…_after he moved on to Anna Mirfield and then Julie Parkes, I realized that he hadn't really felt much of anything for me… I felt used... Be careful, Hermione."_

Megan Jones' advice rang in her head, and she couldn't help but wonder that once it was over between them in December, who would Draco move on to after? Which girl in school would catch his eye? The thought of him touching anyone else as he did her, of him whispering to some other woman in that dark, low voice of his split her heart in two. She tried to hold back her tears, but could not.

"Miss Granger, what's happened?" the Medi-Witch's voice came rushing towards her from nearby. "Are you in pain?"

Hermione quickly snuffed out her self-pity party and sat up, wiping at her face. "No, no, it's nothing like that, Madam Pomfrey. I'm sorry to worry you. I was just… frustrated because my eyesight hasn't returned yet." The lie slid off her tongue and she mentally crossed her fingers, feeling guilty for it.

The nurse's cool hand rested on her brow for a moment, obviously feeling out her temperature. "Oh, I wouldn't worry, dear. The brain's inflammation should already be lessening, and I predict you'll start to see sometime tomorrow or Saturday." She felt her eyelid on her right side stretched out by two fingers. "Your pupils already shrink somewhat in response to the light." The eye was released and the left side was given the same quick examination. "Yes, yes, very good," she tutted. "However, if you continue to stress yourself in such a manner, young lady, you will impede progress," the witch informed her somewhat firmly. "I am therefore going to give you a light sleeping draught to give your brain the rest it needs for its recovery. The less outside stimulation, the more healing can be done by the body naturally."

Within five minutes, Madam Pomfrey had retrieved the potion in question and Hermione had consumed it. Within seconds of that, her brain could no longer turn over any thoughts of her relationship with Draco, as the draught took effect and she fell into a deep sleep that lasted for several hours.

x~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~x

Teddy missed classes on Thursday, his illness particularly awful that day for some unknown reason, spiking his temperature high enough to cause him to sweat and shake for most of the night and clear into morning.

As he lay in misery, he was very careful not to open the curtains around his bed as his roommates got ready for their day, letting them think that he'd decided to simply sleep in. It wasn't until five o'clock in the evening before the trembling ceased and his fever broke, and he had the strength to pull himself out of bed. Grabbing his shower kit, he made for the communal baths and stripped down, throwing himself under a lukewarm shower head. He scrubbed his body well, trying to get rid of the salty perspiration on his skin, trying to keep his tears at bay.

After toweling off and returning to his room, dressing in fresh clothes made him feel almost normal again. He tossed his dirties down the laundry chute, grabbed his wand, put his kit away and made for the Great Hall for dinner.

He comforted himself with the thought that at least he hadn't vomited his guts out. Hell, he even had an appetite. He sat in his usual spot at Slytherin's table, alone, and had two servings of cheese ravioli in a mushroom cream sauce, three warm rolls and a cucumber and tomato salad – a very filling meal, which helped his rather sour mood immensely. He was just digging into the cherry and lime gelatin when he noticed that Draco and Hermione were absent in the hall. Curiously, he turned to Gryffindor's table to see Potter deep in serious conversation with both Ginny and Ron Weasley. Chewing down his dessert quickly, he made his way over to them to inquire over Hermione's health.

"Hey," Potter greeted him with a nod and a wave at the seat across from him. "Join us?"

Teddy was a little shocked by the inclusive gesture. However, old habits die hard; he was used to being an outsider. He hesitated over accepting the offer. Noting this, Potter tried again. "I've got some news about 'Mione," he stated, his piercing green eyes locking onto Teddy. The guy seemed anxious, so Teddy took the bench next to Ron, a nervous flutter going through his stomach.

"She's okay, isn't she?"

The look on the three friends' faces told him that no, clearly, Granger was not okay. "As soon as we got to the Medi-ward yesterday, 'Mione had a second attack and was given another dose of the Alihotsy antidote," Harry explained calmly. "She had a bad reaction to it and… she's temporarily lost her sight."

Teddy's heart started beating madly in his chest. "What? But… Alihotsy doesn't do that to a person. What happened?"

Next to him, Ron sniffed and turned his head away. "It's my fault."

Across the table, Ginny threw a roll at her brother's head. It softly bonked him and bounced off onto the floor, rolling under the table. "No, it isn't, so stop talking stupid."

"Hermione was exposed to Sneezewort before the incident in the greenhouse, but she never got treated for it," Potter filled him in.

"It's my fault!" Ron insisted, his face blotchy, as if he was about to launch into a round of tears. "If I hadn't been mixed up with betting on Quidditch, Boot and Corner wouldn't have tried to poison me and Hermione wouldn't have been vulnerable in the first place."

Ginny sighed. "Quit being so melodramatic, Ron. You couldn't have known what would happen."

Ignoring his friend's outburst, Harry continued on with the details. "'Mione and Madam Pomfrey believe that it caused her brain to swell when combined with the Alihotsy."

Teddy thought about what he knew of both plants. "Giving her another doze of the mood altering Treacle would only have worsened the Sneezewort's effects."

Potter reached up and adjusted his glasses over his nose and nodded. "She was finally given the Calming Draught to counter the Sneezewort, but by then… thankfully, like I said, they think it's temporary and she'll regain her sight as soon as the inflammation in her head goes down. Madam Pomfrey thinks she'll be fine by the end of weekend."

Teddy took a deep breath and nodded. "Thanks for telling me."

"Thanks for saving her, man," Ron intoned, clapping a hand on Teddy's shoulder. He and Weasley were the same height so they looked each other in the eye as he turned to the ginger-haired guy. "Harry said you acted brilliantly to get to her in time. If it wasn't for you, she might have been worse off."

Secretly, in his heart, Teddy felt a teensy swell of pride, but he was careful not to strut about his part in Granger's rescue. That wasn't his style. He shrugged instead. "Can she have visitors?" he asked Potter.

"Yeah," the bespectacled wizard replied. "Until the ward closes tonight at nine."

Teddy stood. "Think I'll go see her," he explained. "Thanks for the heads-up. I owe you."

As he stepped over the bench and took a step towards the door, Potter's voice stopped him and he turned back to listen fully. "Hey, tell Malfoy I said to stop fussing over 'Mione so much. She hates being coddled." The message was subtle, but clear: first, expect Draco to be there with Granger, and second, don't mother-hen Hermione to death, because she'd resent it. Play it cool, in other words. He nodded once in thanks, and the two traded a knowing look, then Teddy moved on his way, once more thinking that Harry Potter just might be the kind of guy Teddy could hang with on occasion.

On his way up to the Medi-Ward, he passed by Daphne Greengrass leaning against the corridor wall somewhat provocatively, with her newest suitor, the Seventh year Ravenclaw Stephen Cornfoot, leaning casually close, one arm propped next to her head. The guy looked as if he was swooping in for the kill as he spoke in a quiet murmur to Daphne, his lips smirking somewhat arrogantly. As Teddy moved closer, his ex-girlfriend's shrewd eyes tracked Teddy's approach. "Didn't see you in Muggle Studies today, Theo," she greeted, her face impassively gazing at him, as usual. "Need notes?"

He stopped only long enough to accept the offer with a polite nod. "Thanks, Daph. Can I get them from you later? I'm needed elsewhere at the moment."

The girl he'd almost lost his heart to once upon a time measured him up carefully and then acquiesced with a nod of her own. "I'm going back to the Common Room in a few minutes to study. Catch me before lights out." With that, she returned to her interrupted conversation with Stephen, a smile teasing up the side of her stunning Pureblood features, and Teddy knew he'd been dismissed. Unconcerned, as this was always the way he and Daphne interacted, he continued on his way towards Granger.

When he got to the hospital wing, Madam Pomfrey directed him to the second floor to see Hermione. He signed in on the parchment as a visitor and then went on up. As expected, Drake was sitting at Hermione's bedside. They were talking, and even from the end of the row, her tinkling laughter filled the quiet room with cheer, turning a usually morose location into a place tolerable for visitation. As he stepped closer, Malfoy turned his head in recognition of someone approaching. His blond friend's face was haggard, but his grey eyes sparkled with something akin to profound relief. He held his hand out and they shook. "Wondered when you were coming by," he addressed Teddy warmly.

"Figured there would be a lot of people crowding around at first. I didn't want to tire her out," he made the excuse, which was _mostly _true. He turned to his lady love, careful to keep his facial features neutral. "Hey, Granger," he greeted, taking a chair from the next bed area over and bringing it to sit by Drake. "How're you doing?"

Her face moved in his direction, but her eyes looked blindly somewhere off to his left. Her welcoming grin was bright and cheerful. "Hi Teddy! Thanks for coming to see me. I'm okay."

Teddy drank her smile in, let it warm his heart and ease his worry for her. "I won't stay long. I know you need your rest," he made his prearranged apologies. "Just wanted to make sure you were doing all right."

Hermione nodded and tapped her forehead lightly. "I'm getting better. I can feel the pressure has gone down since last night."

Teddy snickered and crossed his legs Yank style, one ankle resting on the other knee. "Yeah, 'cause your head _definitely _looks smaller now to me," he mocked, trying to keep things light.

Draco lounged back in his chair as well, his own grin crawling up the side of his face. "Her hair doesn't match, though. If anything, it's even poofier than normal."

Granger giggled. "Poofier? Is that even a word?" she asked Teddy playfully, her head turning in his direction more.

"I just made it up," Drake conceitedly pronounced. "Inventing witty colloquialisms is one of my better talents, you know."

Teddy cleared his throat, trying not to choke on the laughter that bubbled up from his center. "Too bad there's not a N.E.W.T. for that. Maybe then you'd pass at least _one class_ with an 'O'."

Draco leered, his smirk positively wicked. "Oh, I can think of a few subjects where I rate at least an 'Outstanding," wouldn't you say, Granger?"

The blush that stained her cheeks was rather telling; Teddy didn't need to guess what they were referring to. He coughed behind his hand uncomfortably. "So, do you need anything?" he asked Hermione, trying to shift the conversation to 'safer' ground.

Granger shook her head, and reached out for Draco's pale hand. Her boyfriend met her fingers half way and took her in his grasp gently. "No, I've got everything I need, thank you, though."

Teddy's heart splintered at the intimation that Drake was all she'd ever require, but he held his unflappable mask firmly in place despite the momentary crushing pain in his chest. "Well then, I'll come by with copies of my notes from Potions lecture and Transfig lab tomorrow night for you. Also, I got the notes from yesterday's D.A.D.A. lecture. I think your class is on the same chapter as mine, so you can borrow my notes for that, too."

"Thanks, Teddy, I really appreciate it," she smiled sincerely. "Oh, I almost forgot! The Heads-Prefects weekly meeting is tomorrow at noon. Can one of you find Ernie Macmillan between now and then and ask him to conduct the assembly without me? Tell him I hope to be well enough for the Saturday morning Yule Ball update, though."

Feeling a wave of nausea suddenly overtake him, Teddy stood abruptly. "I'm going to get moving now, so I'll do it." He shook Drake's hand again and then made to go rather quickly. "Rest well, Granger. See you tomorrow."

"Good night, Teddy," Hermione called after him. "And thanks for coming to see me!"

As he made his way to the exit, Teddy strolled out at a normal pace, but as soon as he was out of sight of his friends, he dashed to the nearest bathroom and vomited his entire dinner into the first loo he could get to. A slick, queasiness in his guts caused his throat to swallow convulsively and the rush of adrenaline as the nausea ran its course left him shaking in its wake. When he flushed his mess away, he scrambled over to the wash basin and rinsed his mouth out.

What the hell? His symptoms were definitely more intense today. What could have caused that?

Maybe it was just stress after everything that happened yesterday in the greenhouse. Or maybe he had been pushing himself too hard lately, trying to keep ahead in classes so he could win his bet with Granger. Whatever the cause, he physically felt absolutely _horrid._

x~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~x

At Madam Pomfrey's insistence, Granger was given a particularly strong sleeping draught at eight o'clock that night, and was out in seconds. Draco was told the effects would last at least twelve hours, so he debated sneaking back in later and staying with her throughout the night, but he was physically exhausted and had a lot of homework to catch up on. Not wanting his girlfriend to get on him about falling behind in his studies – which he knew she absolutely _would_ do – he decided to go to the library to get his work done, before returning to his dorm for a good night's rest in his own bed.

Taking Hermione's favorite spot by the back corner window (he knew this because he'd been stalking her for weeks before they'd gotten together), Draco set down to work on his Potions essay, which was due the next morning. In the middle of writing a three hundred word treatise on why using Aging Potions was dangerous to one's body, he was interrupted by Blaise's approach.

"Can I talk to you?"

Still a little pissed at his friend regarding his inappropriate comments regarding Hermione, Draco hadn't really said but two words to his roommate over the last week. "What is it?" His voice came out harsher than he wanted, but he didn't take it back.

Blaise pulled over a stool and sat down, his wide-shouldered frame taking up most of the space in between the desk and the tall bookshelf. "I wanted to apologize for what I said to you about Granger. I was out of line."

Draco raised an eyebrow at him and nodded hard, not intending on making this easier for his friend. He'd pushed too far, and needed to know he couldn't do it again. "Yes, you were."

Looking seriously uncomfortable, Blaise raised a hand to his neck and began rubbing the back of it. "I guess I never thought about her as anything but Potter's right hand, and as the bossy Head Girl Gryffindor, you know?"

Draco put his quill down, sat back in his chair and folded his arms, setting his face into a neutral façade. "And now you think of her differently?"

Blaise shrugged. "When I realized what she meant to you, I started really looking at her. She's… not so bad." He paused, frowned. "Actually, she's scary smart and nice on the eyes, so I get the attraction. And, you seem… different around her. She makes you… you look damned happy, man. We all see it." His friend glanced up at him, locking eyes. "So, I guess what I'm trying to say is, I'm glad you found someone. Granger's a good match for you. And I'm sorry. Yeah, just… sorry." He ended that last by looking back down at his large, but elegant hands, then glancing back up for his sentence to be rendered.

Draco deliberated for a moment over what his friend had just said. Blaise's words only confirmed in his mind that his feelings for Hermione weren't just misplaced hormones; other people were seeing the effect she had on him, and apparently it was a good one. He nodded once, accepting the apology. "You and Pans seem to be going well," he noted nonchalantly.

Blaise's telling grin lit up his face. "She's… all right."

Draco gave him a knowing look. "She thinks you're pretty damned good in the sack."

Blaise sat up straighter with an edge of nervous anxiety. "She tell you that?"

That slow smirk wound up Draco's left cheek. "Yep. Same morning. Ran into her at our door." There was no need to explain _which_ morning exactly he was referring to, as Blaise understood it to mean the same one they'd had their row. "Said you certainly knew how to 'kiss' and wanted to know why I'd never cued her in before."

A light gleamed in Blaise's eyes. "What'd you tell her?"

Draco grinned wickedly. "That you never gave away your patented lip-lock secrets to me." They shared a chuckle. "So you dig on her, then?"

Blaise quickly looked down at the floor again. "Yeah, but her father will never go for it, seeing as it's come out that I'm Half-blood."

Draco waved his hand away. "You think my mum and dad will go for Granger? Who cares about the parents anyway? You want her, don't let anything stop you."

His friend seemed immensely cheered that someone was on his side about this issue. "Guess you're right." He shook his head and ran a hand over his face in sudden frustration. "Problem is I can't tell if Pans wants me the same way."

"You're Mr. Charming of the fucking month," Draco scoffed. "Court her. Take her for tea in the village and to the Yule Ball and show her a good time outside of bed." He tilted his chair back onto two wooden legs. "We've been friends since we were kids, so trust me when I say that Pans secretly wants to be swept off her feet. She just won't tell you that. She likes to play hard-to-get."

Blaise considered his friend's words sincerely for a few moments, and then he smiled. "Good idea, mate. Thanks." He hopped off the stool and dragged it back to where he'd acquired it initially. Obviously, their conversation had come to an end, for which Draco was thankful, since he wanted to finish this essay quickly and go to bed. His eyes were starting to ache from exhaustion.

Just as he was leaving, Blaise turned back to him, his face serious. "Drake, I've got to warn you … Nott's got it bad for your girl, too."

Draco didn't look up as he retrieved his quill off his parchment, but he felt his heart skip a beat as a pang of jealousy ran through him. "Yeah, I know." He also knew that his girlfriend sort-of liked his friend back; he had spent weeks astutely watching her, after all. He wasn't going to say anything about _that_ to Blaise, though. Zabini was, first and foremost, a Slytherin, and no matter how close they were, Draco was careful about how much to reveal of his private thoughts to his friend. "I'm not worried about it," he lied. He dipped his quill tip into his inkpot and tapped it. "Thanks, though."

With a 'see ya!' thrown over his shoulder, Blaise left him to his peace. Unfortunately, it never came. Recollections of Teddy's intense, eager eyes watching Granger across the dining hall came back to haunt him… followed by a clear memory of her glancing over at Nott and blushingly turning away. For the first time, Draco wondered if Granger was going through with their deal just so she could learn how to please his best friend later. He shut his eyes and swallowed the painful lump in his throat that thought conjured.

Fuck, he was an idiot.

x~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~x

On Friday, half of Hermione's House showed up again to check on her progress, and Teddy dropped off his notes that evening before dinner, as promised. He didn't stay long, which was fine with her, since she was still lingeringly uncomfortable around him, feeling as she did. Ginny unwittingly helped to take her mind off of her troubles by sharing some of her favorite red licorice over a good, old fashioned gossip session about what Lavender and Ron were up to (among others).

Late that night, once more, Draco stayed with Hermione until he was told that visiting hours were up at nine p.m. He left, but slipped back in to be with her again after Madam Pomfrey retreated to her bedroom on the first floor. "Back, baby," he whispered, returning to her side within an hour of his departure.

"Hi again," he shyly greeted him, and she heard him shuffling around. His weight shifted onto the cot's mattress and he indicated that she should scoot over with a tap on her legs. She did and he lay down on his side next to her. His warm breath tickled her cheek, so she knew he was face-to-face with her, even though she could not see him.

To her immense relief, when she had awoken today, Hermione was greeted with a pinprick of white amongst the seemingly endless darkness. It was just a small, hazy glimmer of color, but it was there, and it signaled that her sight would return. She earnestly thanked the Four Founders for even that little progress. For a day there, she'd despaired of the possibility of being permanently blind, despite Madam Pomfrey's reassurances.

Truthfully, not having control over her body was absolutely the most terrifying thing she ever experienced – even more so than being held captive by Voldemort, or facing off three Death Eaters in a duel for her very life during the final battle at Riddle Manor. She willed her eyes to see, but to no avail, and that was both frustrating and frightening. What made it worse was light's complete absence; to be unable to see danger coming was a primal horror engrained into the hominid condition itself, fostered and ingrained into the very fabric of humanity's collective soul from the days before fire was discovered. As Hermione had discerned today, when she was all alone in the quiet of the Medi-Ward, without sight, her overactive imagination ran wild with strange fancies of Boggarts and Dementors and other such monsters lurking nearby, stalking her, perhaps even closing in for the kill. It was completely ridiculous, of course, but it was the reality of her situation. Her logic had fallen to the wayside of unadulterated animal instinct. Also, when she'd been alone, the crushing bleakness had conjured despairing thoughts. It was only when another person was near – especially Draco - that she felt more solidly grounded to reality; when there was no human contact, she'd spent those hours lost in a nebulous drift, where time disappeared and every sound was confusing.

Her boyfriend was here with her now, and with her returning sight, her courage began to rebound as well. The terror was abating, thankfully. And the niggling doubts that had crept in about her relationship with Draco were hushed up and set aside for now; she would deal with them later. Right now, all she wanted was to be with him and not feel any negative emotions. Reaching between them, she placed her right hand on Draco's chest, working it up to his jaw and cheek, where she let it stay for the moment. "I wish I could see you," she confessed, feeling strangely vulnerable at the moment. "I like looking into your eyes."

She felt his lips quirk in amusement. "They're just boring grey. Nothing special there, Granger."

Hermione firmly shook her head. "The color changes depending on your mood. It's really fascinating to watch."

"Hadn't noticed," he commented offhandedly, his voice whisper soft against her lips as he'd moved in for a kiss.

When Draco's lips pulled away from hers and moved to her throat, she tried to explain her feelings on the matter. It was difficult, as what he was doing – licking and nipping over her pulse – was distracting. "Sometimes, when you're happy or pensive, they're like winter skies. _Ahhh!" _she gasped, as he nibbled on her earlobe. She cleared her throat and tried again. "You know the light grey color that's calming and reflective. And sometimes, when you're angry, they're dark like violent storm clouds. _Oooh!"_ she groaned as he bit at her pulse, and her hand clenched over his chest, digging the nails in unconsciously. She pushed a little against him, but he wouldn't be deterred and kept up his seductive assault on her throat. "And when you're kissing me… _Mmmmm_…" she shuddered and took several fast breaths as his tongue bathed the whole side of her neck in a long trail back towards her ear, "they're silvery like moonlight." She giggled and pinned her neck with her shoulder when he nuzzled her ticklishly. "Really, Draco, you're insatiable!"

He breathed hot air against her ear for a second or two before replying. "Only for you."

Something deep in Hermione's chest ached and her tummy flip-flopped at his words. _Careful_, the rational voice in her head cautioned her. _Don't be fooled by this moment. _She shut her eyes and leaned her forehead against Draco's shoulder as he pulled her over on top of him very slowly and then he rolled her onto her back, shimmying them into the middle of the small cot so he was leaning over her, lying in the middle of her legs. He supported himself on his elbows and his fingers tangled themselves into her hair once again. He pressed soft kisses all along her jaw, chin and neck, and brought his mouth up to her ear again.

"I'm glad you're going to be okay, Hermione," he whispered tenderly. "I've been… concerned." He paused, nuzzling her skin with his nose gently. "Don't worry about the meeting tomorrow. Just get better."

She chuckled. "You just want me well so we can get back to our lessons," she joked.

There was a strange pause and he tensed up, and again, Hermione wished she could see him to know what her words had changed on his face. "I was only playing," she murmured, raising a hand to his face to touch his lips. There was a definite frown there. "You know? Teasing." He let out a deep sigh and lay his forehead on her collar. Her fingers moved to the back of his head and hesitantly began stroking his silky hair. It was awkward between them all of the sudden and she wasn't sure why.

Without warning, Hermione felt the gold chain around her neck pulled up by his fingers. "What's this?"

Merlin's false teeth! She wasn't supposed to tell anyone about her little secret, per Professor Dumbledore's instruction, but she'd forgotten entirely that she'd been wearing the magical piece of jewelry when she'd been admitted to the hospital ward. Caught, she sighed and fessed up. "A Time-Turner."

Draco whistled low. "How did you get something like this?"

"I asked for it, from Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall," she explained. "I'd planned to take a lot more classes this term, but after falling into the Head Girl duties, I realized how crazy that idea was. I didn't want to exhaust myself again, like I had in Third Year when I last used it. But, I haven't had time to give it back yet. I plan to soon, though."

Her boyfriend carefully put the device back down on her chest. "So _that's_ how you were getting around then," he murmured under his breath. "I wondered how you'd suddenly just pop up unexpectedly from thin air without using apparation. Clever."

She reached and tucked the Time-Turner back in between her breasts. "I wasn't aware anyone noticed."

He chuckled. "Of course I did. I've kept my eye on 'The Golden Trio' since First Year."

Hermione blushed, very self-conscious all of the sudden. He'd watched her for years. What had he seen, exactly? How many childish things had she done in all that time that she might be mortified by now? She hadn't exactly been aware of being studied by anyone so closely, so it wasn't like she'd checked her behavior very often. Had he seen her smack Ron around when the boy was misbehaving? Had he seen her grouchy while she was on her period, or looking like something the cat had drug in after a night of indulging in too much reading and getting very little sleep? How many times had he caught her staring at Viktor Krum… or Ron? She inwardly groaned. Godric's bane, how embarrassing! "And in all that time, you never once considered me like this?" she asked daringly. "Not once?"

There was a telling pause. "I'm a guy, Granger. Of course I'd noticed you'd grown up. I just never allowed myself to think about you sexually before. You were always Potter's sidekick first and foremost."

"I see," she commented, and she really did get where he was coming from - because she'd noticed Draco Malfoy before this year, too. What girl in school hadn't? He was a gorgeous boy, with those penetrating eyes and that shining, platinum hair, and that tall frame with its strong hands, and his commanding presence. But she hadn't actually thought of him as a _sexual_ being, despite all of the wild rumors about him, because he was first and foremost to her a bigoted Slytherin git. That was, until she'd seen him half naked on a beach in France, with his pale, flawless skin exposed to the sun, and she'd actually touched – _grabbed! _- that powerful musculature which had lain hidden under his school robes. Only then had she noticed that Draco was a man.

Just thinking about it now made her fingers itch to touch his bared torso again. And really, why couldn't she? He'd touched her breasts – done more than that, actually. Fair was fair. "Can I feel your chest?" she hurriedly asked before she lost her courage. "I know I can't see you, but I've got my memories of what you look like from over the summer."

He kissed her on the cheek. "I'd _love _that," he purred and hitched himself up on his elbows. "Want help with the buttons?"

She shook her head stubbornly. "I can do it."

His hand played with the curls near her ear as she reached up and unfastened his shirt. Her hands, amazingly enough, weren't shaking and she wasn't the least bit nervous about doing this. Excited, was more like it, actually. By feel alone, she pulled his shirt tails out of his pants and got to the last button, then glided the shirt off his shoulders. She felt him move about, and then heard the fabric slide to the floor next to the bed.

"Touch me," he whispered against her face hotly. "Run your hands all over me, Granger. Anywhere you want."

With both hands eager, she started at his shoulders and felt the rounded curves, moving in towards the collar, where she spread her fingers out and touched her thumbs against his larynx. From there, she slowly descended, caressing the soft skin over his clavicle and then his pectorals. His skin was warm velvet, smooth and well developed. When her index fingers swiped over his small nipples, he hissed in pleasure, and against her thigh, she felt his penis harden. She smiled. "I like that I can make you react like that," she admitted bashfully. "I still can't believe that you find me… well, desirable." And she honestly couldn't; she wasn't fishing for a compliment. Hermione sincerely didn't believe that she was half as pretty as the majority of girls in the school. In her estimation, she didn't compare to the likes of Draco's other lovers, like Megan Jones, Fay Dunbar, Marietta Edgecombe and even (and she _hated_ to admit this) Pansy Parkinson, with her long, shapely legs and C-cup breasts. No, Hermione was only passively attractive in her mind, and then only because she'd gotten her teeth fixed and used potions and magic to tame her naturally unruly hair.

Draco didn't seem to agree, however. He bent his head to her lips and kissed her slowly, longingly. "You're bloody sexy, Granger," he commented in a low growl, pulling back and placing kisses on her jaw, working up towards her ear again. "You're the most beautiful witch I've ever known. I want you all the time." Pushing himself up at the hips, he pulled her left hand down gently to his pelvis and brushed her against his hard length with a low groan. "Believe it."

Her heart slammed into her throat in response. Even though being admired for her intelligence, personal ambition and skill were extremely important things to Hermione, secretly she also wished to be thought of as physically attractive, too. It was a little vain and shallow, but it was the truth. Hearing her boyfriend call her the "most beautiful witch" he'd "ever known" made the pixies in her stomach flutter around riotously.

Keeping her left hand in place over his pants, cupping his shaft against her palm, Hermione's right hand continued its exploration of his chest, enjoying how he uncontrollably twitched against her fingers. The skin of his abdomen was tightly drawn over the ridges of muscles, and she moved from left to right, then down the side of his waist where his pants stopped her from further journeying south. She moved across and located his bellybutton, circling it with a fingertip and lightly dipping in to test a tickle. He sniffed in amusement. "Back of the knees only, I'm afraid." He dipped his mouth over hers again. "But then, you already know that secret, don't you?"

Merlin, but Draco could make her heart pound with the simplest of questions. His voice was as smooth as melted chocolate, and as warm as glowing embers in the hearth. Everything about him was enticingly sinful.

His erection jerked lightly against her hand at just that moment, and she twitched in surprise. Had he done that on purpose, or was the reaction just like his chest muscles – uncontrollable response to stimuli? None of her reading on the subject of the male anatomy had told her that it was possible for a man to actually move his member without moving his hips at the same time. "Can you… do that again?" she breathed the question, the academic side of her mind coming forward in curiosity. He did and she swallowed in edgy excitement, and then she actually giggled. "I didn't know," she admitted, a smile edging her lips. "That a man could do that. Move _it_, I mean."

He chuckled low and kissed her pulse. "You can squeeze your muscles down there, too, you know," he informed her. "Try it."

Hermione blinked in confusion. "You mean now?"

His soft hair brushed against her cheek as he nodded. "Yes. Try it," he coaxed again, his tone deliciously wicked.

She bit her lip in concentration and turning inward, willed her vaginal muscles to contract and they pulsed under her control. It felt… interesting. "Wow. That's… I've never been aware of actually doing that consciously before, although I'm sure I must have," she acknowledged, her mind processing the feeling.

"You have," he confirmed as he continued to press wet, sucking kisses to her throat. "Every time you've come for me."

Hermione's face felt like it was on fire. Well, yeah, _that _should have been obvious to her, as that's where the pleasurable rippling originated from at that moment when she climaxed. She hadn't actually considered the mechanics of her orgasms before, and it was strangely arousing to discover how her body worked. "Oh."

Draco kissed her sweetly. "Don't be embarrassed," he bid. "I love that you come for me. I love…" he hesitated, and for an instant, she held her breath expectantly. "…that you want me as much as I want you." To emphasize this, he thrust his hips lightly against the hand that was still cupping him and moaned in between another blistering kiss. "I'm going to teach you everything I know about sex," he buzzed above her lips as he pulled slightly back, and leaned again into her ear. "_Naughty_ things, Hermione… things that you wouldn't even dream of."

She shivered in growing longing, and her breath sped up in anticipation. She licked her lips. "Like what?" she dared to ask.

Draco's smile stretched across her skin and he placed a small kiss against her temple, his fingers trailing over her breast again, circling slowly, driving her mad. "I'm going to pleasure you with my fingers and my mouth, starting at your lips and moving down to your sweet pussy." His hand lightly trailed down her stomach, and crawled under the blanket to stop between her legs following the path he obviously planned to take when he fulfilled that promise. "I'm going to bathe you with my tongue and thrust up inside your body, and you're going to come all over my face. And I'm going to watch you the whole time." One of his fingers circled above her clit, and Hermione could feel the pleasant pressure deep inside her womb unwind. She sighed in sincere yearning, and the hand she'd rested on his stomach moved up to grab onto his bicep, gripping him tightly.

His lips ran butterfly caresses up and down over the shell of her ear as he continued his relentless explanation of his plans for her, opening up her world to whole new ideas at the same time. "I'm going to teach you how to stroke my cock with those wicked, little hands of yours, and then show you how to get me off with your mouth. You're going to suck me hard and take me down your throat, Granger." He jerked his hips again into the palm of her hand, and she squeezed lightly, marveling again at the size under her palm. Draco moaned, biting her gently over her pulse once more, his fingers stroking her nipple over her hospital shift again. Her right hand clenched over his arm of its own will, and she dug her fingernails into his shirt and gasped as he kept up the assault on her senses.

"I'll dress you in sexy clothes, and then I'll take them off of you," he promised next, breathing on her overly sensitized skin. "Or maybe I'll have you strip for me slowly while I stroke myself off for you... Yeah, I think I like that idea _much_ better." He moved across to her untouched side and began sucking on her other ear, and she pressed her face into his neck, in between his strong body and the soft pillow, to give him freer access. "I'm going to massage oil into every crevice of your skin and rub my naked body against yours." She began shivering, caught in the grip of feverish desire, her upper thighs slippery from her arousal already; she rubbed them together to try to alleviate some of her need. "I'm going to lick sweet cream and sweets off of you, and make you do the same to me."

Draco bit down on her bottom lip hard and pulled away in a sucking motion before continuing. She whimpered in response. "I'm going to fuck you in every position I can think of, Granger, and I'm going to _fill _you with my come."

Merlin, he was so explicit! But then, he'd told her from the very beginning he liked to be this way, hadn't he? He sucked on her breast through the gown, and without a bra on, gods, it felt _wonderful_. He ran his tongue over her lips, tracing them seductively and she lightly tongued him back. He pulled away and nipped her chin, and she moved her right hand over his chest to touch his nipple once again, rubbing it lightly up and down. "I'm going to take away your freedom," he continued, grabbing her left hand and moving it off of his crotch, resting it next to her head, pinning it there with some pressure, "and then I'm going to teach you to obey me." Under her other hand, his heart was pounding as fast as hers and the rhythm made things in her core flip. He moved his roaming hand over to her hip, tilted her slightly and gave her a small pat on the bum. "Then I'll let you do the same to me."

He buzzed her lips again, shivering now, too. "You're going to love fucking me, Hermione. You're going to love it all, I promise." He thrust his tongue into her mouth possessively, sucked on her lips, and claimed her mouth as his own.

Caught up in Draco's verbal seduction, Hermione was helpless to do anything except experience the moment. In those long minutes of such intimate kissing, she would have given him anything, let him do anything he wanted to her. This loss of all rational control… it was heady, made her dizzy. She loved it. She loved him for making her feel this way. And she didn't once think about what the consequences would be for being so imprudent and indulgent.

They came up for air eventually, and she knew he was looking down into her eyes. She wished with all her might that she could see him back in that moment. His fingers ghosted her cheek and his voice was reverent when he spoke to her. "I'm going to make your first time good for you." He exhaled a short breath and she felt his eyelashes flutter against her cheek as he pressed in close. "I can't wait to make you mine, baby."

Hermione wanted to tell him that she already was his, but she was afraid to be so bold. Her breathing was rasped, her throat tight, her heart fluttering like a wounded bird behind her rib cage. "Draco…" She reached up and stroked his cheek back. "I…" She bit her lip, terrified to speak because the three words she wanted so much to say to him were guaranteed to destroy this between them. Instead, she reached up and tentatively brought her lips back to his. "I want that, too," she finally whispered in between kisses. "All of it. I can't wait either."

He said nothing, but she could sense there was something he wanted to say as well. Was it good or bad? She didn't know, as she couldn't see his eyes to know his emotions at the moment. She hoped she hadn't given too much away right then.

Draco shifted then so that he lay mostly on his side, his cheek pressed down on her collar, nestling his face into the crook of her shoulder and throat. He entwined his free hand with hers and let out a deep shuddery breath. "You should rest now," he murmured. "I want you well soon, Hermione… yeah, so we can get back to our lessons."

She closed her eyes, willing her body to relax, holding onto the man she loved as she eventually drifted off to sleep once more.

* * *

**CHAPTER TWELVE: Heating Up**

_**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland**_

_**Saturday, November 15, 1997 - Sunday, November 16, 1997**_

On Saturday morning, Draco was gone from Hermione's bedside. She knew this not from the lack of his warmth or the feel of his body next to hers, but because she could see that he was not there. The room was covered in a hazy, milky gauze, but her eyesight had definitely improved overnight. When Madam Pomfrey came by at eight o'clock to check on her and deliver her tray full of breakfast goodness (and a packet of Stringmints to freshen her breath and clean her teeth), the elder woman's face beamed down at her.

"Yes, wonderful, you're coming along quite nicely," the nurse cheered. "I won't give you anymore of the sleeping draught until tonight, but I expect you to rest and take it easy until then." With that, the Medi-Witch was gone to do "gobs of paperwork," as she termed it.

Ernie Macmillian came to see how she was doing at eight-thirty while she was in the middle of finishing up her spiced tea and currant scone, and she explained that he'd have to handle the Yule Ball meeting without her, and requested he fill her in later. He agreed, and rushed off to the library to meet up with the Prefects for their updates while she took out a Stringmint and cleansed her mouth. She then pointed her wand at her hair and spoke the charm for combing it and smoothing it down. Finally, she Scourgify'd herself to clean up her body, and added a freshening agent to give her skin a clean smell while she was at it. It wasn't the same as a shower or bath, as it had none of the relaxation properties associated with such rituals, but it did the job nicely in a pinch.

Draco came in around ten a.m. He was dressed in his black casuals, his hands in his pockets as he sauntered up to her bedside. Her weak eyes tracked him. "Hi, handsome," she greeted him before he could make his presence known to her. "You look yummy."

He blinked at her with surprise and smiled. "Your eyesight's back then?"

She tilted her head. "Sort of. I can see, but everything's under a thin white film."

He took a seat next to her on the cot, reached out and stroked her hair gently. "That's definitely an improvement. How are you feeling?"

She glanced around carefully. "Is there anyone else nearby?" she whispered.

Draco looked around the small privacy curtain that had been erected for her, and shook his head. "Nope. Just us, baby."

Hermione felt her mischievous smile stretch across her lips. "Good. Come closer." When he did, she kissed him for all she was worth, and dragged him down on top of her as she lay back. They enjoyed each other's taste and smell and feel for long minutes. Finally, Draco moved his lips off of hers, trailing a hot, wet path towards her ear. "You're frisky in the morning, then? Good to know." He nibbled on her lobe to her hushed squeals of delight.

Around noon, Draco took his leave to grab a quick bite to eat before heading out to the Quidditch pitch for the next four hours when Ernie showed up with notes on the morning's Prefect meeting. She and the Head Boy went through the progress that had been made on the Yule Ball plans, and everything was going smoothly, much to her delight. Pleased with the success, Hermione asked Ernie to pass along her congratulations to everyone, as well as her wishes for them to keep up the hard work. She sincerely thanked him as well and he shyly accepted her praise before ducking out to go start in on the correspondence with the newspapers.

Left to her own devices for the rest of the afternoon, Hermione called in Madam Pomfrey and requested a sleeping draught. She wanted her brain to rest and not to do what it typically did when she was alone, and the progress with her eyes only encouraged her to continue with the proscribed treatment. She wanted to be able to see fully by tomorrow.

x~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~x

Hermione slept until eight that evening, and awoke to find Draco sitting by her bedside, reading his Advanced Potions Seventh Year text. She didn't cue him in that she had woken, watching him silently as his eyes skimmed the pages. After several minutes, he blinked, his face crinkling up and then reached up with two fingers and gripped the bridge of his nose, as if he were in pain, rubbing it.

"Headache?" she asked quietly in concern, not wanting to startle him.

His book snapped shut and he sat up, moving his hand away and looked over at her with a smile. "You snore terribly, Granger," he stated teasingly. "It's enough to give anyone a migraine."

She looked at him, cursing the haziness, wishing she could actually see him clear enough to know if he was fronting, which she suspected him of doing. "Seriously, I know you've been exhausting yourself coming here so often in between trying to keep up with studies and Quidditch. You don't have to sit with me tonight if you need your own bed."

She actually saw his smile drop off his face. "Are you saying you don't want me here?" he asked cautiously.

Shaking her head, she smiled tentatively at him to smooth away any potential misunderstanding. "I'm just as worried about your health as you are about mine. I don't want you to end up in here because you're pushing yourself for my sake."

Draco put his book down on top of his satchel, which was lying at his feet on the floor, and then joined her on the cot, leaning over her once more. "I didn't know you cared, Granger," he joked, pressing a light kiss to her lips.

Touching his cheek lightly, she bit her lip, debating on a safe way to say what she wanted to convey to him without giving too much away. "I'm… fond of you, Draco," she finally chose her sentiment with extreme caution. "And I've come to regard you highly over the last few weeks. I'd like to think that we've become… very good friends. Am I wrong?"

He considered her words, his face gone serious. It took him more than a dozen trembling heartbeats before he replied. "I'm fond of you, too, Granger," he gently tucked one stray hair behind her ear. She couldn't be sure, but he looked a little sad as he spoke. He leaned his head down into her shoulder so that she couldn't see his face, but she felt his breath on her collar. "Friends it is then."

"_Good_ friends," she corrected softly, feeling suddenly very emotionally exposed. Her fingers reached around his neck to play with his hair on the back of his collar nervously.

He nuzzled her throat and chuckled. "_Very_ good friends," he purred and bit her over her pulse with light teeth. He lathed where he had nipped her and it made her breath catch.

"Yes," she sighed in pleasure as his mouth continued its tender assault on her neck and earlobe. "Very good… very… _ooooh!_"

Draco proceeded to ravish her with gentleness, even going so far as to push up her hospital gown and suckle her naked breasts and let his hands roam the rest of her body, even over her knickers. He pressed very lightly on her covered clit and her legs fell apart for him automatically. He shushed her increasingly loud moaning, and she pressed her lips against his shoulder to muffle the sounds of her cries as he stroked her slit over her knickers, continuing to run his tongue over her nipples until she came to flashing white bursts behind her eyelids. He stopped then, hearing Madam Pomfrey shuffle around her desk at the end of the long hall, and replaced her gown and covers as if nothing were amiss. Then, he took his seat back at her side and picked back up his textbook, pretending to read as Hermione feigned sleep… just in time for the nurse to round the private curtain and harrumph at them both suspiciously. Hermione did her best to keep her smile from showing on her face and giving them away, even as the nurse pointedly cued Draco that there were only fifteen minutes left until the ward closed for the night.

x~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~x

On Sunday morning, Hermione's eyesight was completely restored to normal. Colors, shades, and sharpness had returned, and Madam Pomfrey deigned her fit to be discharged. Draco had left her around five a.m. and was now no doubt at his regularly scheduled Quidditch practice until one that afternoon, so she dressed in her school uniform (which had been sent to be laundered while she'd been laid up) and left the medical ward for the Gryffindor Common Room, hoping to catch her friends up.

As she hurried down the hall, she crossed paths with Teddy, who had been on his way up to visit her. They stopped half a meter apart in a patch of rare winter-time sunlight streaming through the tall, cathedral windows in the hallway and Hermione had to tilt her head up to look him in the eye. "Hi!" she greeted him enthusiastically with a wave of her hand and a bright smile, feeling humongously better for being out of bed and walking around again.

"It's good to see you're back to health," Teddy greeted her, his own white smile lighting up his handsome face. His mismatched eyes sparkled with obvious relief. "You're eyesight's one-hundred percent then?"

She nodded excitedly, and indicated with a nod that they should walk together in the direction she had been initially heading. Teddy fell easily into step by her side, his attention riveted on her. "Yes, thank Merlin. I was beginning to get cabin fever, as the Americans so aptly term it. I hate being unproductive. And now I'm behind in my studies."

Teddy chuckled. "Looks like you'll never catch me now, Granger," he teased. "You might as well thrown in the towel and admit to second place."

Hermione shook her head firmly. "Oh, no, absolutely not!" she declared fiercely. "I plan on catching up this week." She waggled a finger at him. "I don't give up so easily, Mr. Nott."

Her friend laughed. "Glad to hear it, Miss Granger. The challenge will only make my win all the sweeter in the end."

"I'm going to need brain food soon. I'm starved," she admitted, holding her growling tummy in embarrassment. "Think I'll ask the house elves to whip something up for me quickly. Did you eat?"

Teddy shrugged and grinned. "I've already had breakfast, but the company is too delightful to pass up on." He indicated for her to step in front of him as they headed down the stairs towards the Entrance Hall and towards the kitchens. "After you, miss."

She faux curtsied quickly in jest, playing along. "My, what a gentleman you are, sir."

"Only for you," he snickered.

Instantly, Hermione flushed, and moved past Teddy, hoping he hadn't noticed her reaction to his specific choice of words, which had mirrored her boyfriend's sentiment the other night, and which once more keenly reminded her of the decision she had made between them. She liked Teddy a little more than a friend should, but she was in love with Draco, and no matter her attraction to the tall, dark Slytherin, her heart had already settled the matter for her.

Deciding to switch the subject to avoid making anymore a fool of herself, she grabbed at the first thing to pop into her head. "So, have you received the Yule Ball invite yet?" Teddy made an affirmative noise between his pursed lips, but didn't say anything more on the subject. "Parvati and Anthony worked hard on those. What did you think?"

"They were nicely done," he replied, but didn't elaborate, clearly distracted by some other thought. She patiently waited him out, and within a few seconds, he voiced what had been bothering him. "I guess you're taking Drake then?"

The question was put out there simply, but Hermione could hear the undertones and felt a little uncomfortable. "I assume so. He hasn't asked me yet, though."

Teddy's eyebrows jerked up in surprise under the fringe of his long bangs. "Why don't you ask him?"

Hermione bit her lip, not really wanting to explain the reason to Teddy. The truth was that she wanted Draco to ask her formally because it would make her feel a little more confident about their strange relationship. If he would give even a little confirmation that he was interested in her for more than just the sex stuff it would somehow be permission, of a sorts, for her to let her heart relax and possibly even to tell him the truth of her feelings. "I… I'm old fashioned that way," she lamely explained. "Call it silly, but I was raised by a somewhat conservative set of parents." Teddy made no reply to this, for which she was somewhat thankful. It allowed her to turn the conversation around. "Who do you want to take?"

He shrugged and his face closed down, moving smoothly into that typical Slytherin mask of indifference that she'd seen them all wear at one time or another. "Hadn't actually thought about it." He looked at her out of the corner of his eye. "Hey, if Drake doesn't ask you, what are you going to do?"

The idea made her stop dead in her tracks. What would she do if Draco didn't want to take her to the Yule Ball? Oh, gods, what if he wanted to take _someone else_? They hadn't exactly verbally agreed that they were officially boyfriend and girlfriend; she'd just been taking that position for granted, since he hadn't been seeing anyone else, as far as she knew. But what if he was? What if he had a girl he already liked outside of their arrangement?

"Granger?" Teddy concernedly tried to get her attention, his voice coming to her as if from down a long tunnel. "Hey, breathe, okay?"

She snapped to and took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart, a plan already formulating in her overactive mind: she'd just have to ask Draco to the Ball before someone else did and hope he said yes. "I'll… cross that bridge if I come to it," she decided, refusing to be hurt by imagined ideas.

Teddy looked gravely chagrined. "I'm sorry, Granger. It just came out all wrong. I didn't mean it badly." He looked downright remorseful. "I'm really sorry."

Determined to move forward, she put her right foot in front of her left and forced herself to continue on her way towards the kitchens. "It's okay, Teddy. I know how you meant it." And she did. He hadn't meant to imply anything negative about the state of her relationship with Draco, only to inquire as to whether she had plans to ask Draco instead. It was an easy misunderstanding.

They walked to the Entrance Hall together, where Teddy bowed out of joining her for a bite, opting for the opposite stairs down into the dungeons, and back to his Common Room. He apologized again for hurting her feelings before he left, looking like a dog that'd just been kicked one too many times by its master, and Hermione did her best to reassure him that no harm had been done. Still, when he'd left, she'd felt a little sad for him. Teddy clearly liked her, but his loyalty to Draco was also obvious. She knew that he was feeling as torn as she had been, and she felt guilt for causing him pain, even though there wasn't anything she could do to prevent that. This was something Teddy needed to work out on his own.

Her stomach gave a loud growl once more, and she hurried on her way to see Yellie, her favorite kitchen elf, already formulating plans for how and when to ask Draco to the Ball.

x~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~x

Teddy made his way back to his room, hurrying through the Common Area with only a quick glance. As he entered, he noted a flurry of activity in the room (just another typical Sunday during winter): Pansy was parked on Blaise's lap in one of the high-back, dark green upholstered cozy chairs and they were snogging lustily; Daphne was tutoring her younger sister, Astoria, in Fifth Year Charms work; two Third Years were in the corner playing Wizard's Chess; there was a group of male underclassmen gathering in the front corner of the room with broomsticks, loudly talking about checking out the Quidditch pitch for a friendly game once the official Slytherin team was done that afternoon; Jeremy Stretton and Adrian Pucey were sitting across from each other in separate chairs playing with a Weasley Wizarding new invention: The Ever-Bouncing Bubble – a magical soap bubble that could be hit back and forth between them like a ball, with the claim-to-fame that it would never break or pop no matter how hard you hit it, or what you smacked it with or against. He bypassed all of them in seconds with his long, hurried strides and made for the safety of his room.

Luckily, his three roommates were out and about today, so he shut the door behind him and made for his satchel, which he'd left lying perpendicular next to his bed. Rummaging into the hidden pocket inside, he grabbed one of the potions he'd stored there and downed it fast, wiping his sweaty brow with shaky hands. The effects were instantaneous, thankfully and he let out a huge sigh of relief and threw himself down on his bed, clutching the empty vial to his chest and trying to relax his trembling body. The nausea had come upon him just as he and Hermione had passed by the open doors of the dining hall, the lingering smell from lunch earlier turning his stomach. He'd made his apologies to Granger, and hoped she didn't question the speed at which he'd parted from her side.

"What's the potion for, Theo?" came a familiar voice from his door.

He shot up into a sitting position in horror to find Daphne staring pointedly at the glass container in his hand. _Think of something quick, dummy! _He opened his mouth and nothing came out, his mind having gone completely blank. His ex-girlfriend glided into his room, closing the door behind her and sat on the edge of his bed as if it were the most natural thing in the world. She looked him dead in the eye and he knew the next words out of her mouth would be his doom.

"I know you're sick," she admitted, her face passively neutral, her emerald green eyes unwavering and enigmatic. "I just don't know from what."

Teddy considered denying it, but the look in her eyes said she knew the undeniable truth. Instead, he shrugged, feigning indifference. "It's a nasty bug I caught over summer break," he lied outright. "It's hung on. That's all."

Daphne Greengrass did something then that she hadn't done to him since he told her he was breaking it off with her: she raised one perfectly arched, golden eyebrow up at him and smirked. "You're fibbing to me, Theo," she admonished him. "And there's no point denying it. You always look down and to the left when you lie. It's your tell."

Anger boiled in his chest suddenly. "It's none of your business, Daph. Back off."

Her smirk dropped off her perfectly angled cheek as if it had been magically erased. "I'm making it my business, Theo."

Teddy jerked back a bit. "Did you… did you just growl at me?" He laughed in amazement. "Frankly, I didn't think your vocal chords registered any sound other than sarcasm and cold detachment."

Her jaw tightened visibly, indicating she was clenching her teeth together. "And the occasional moan. You've forgotten that, apparently."

He felt his eyes narrow in suspicion a second before he registered actually having made the motion. "What the hell do you want, Daph? I'm not in the mood for your games."

Her smirk was back in an instant. "There was a time you _liked_ my games, Theo. Very much, if I recall."

He shot up off the bed, feeling completely uncomfortable with where this conversation was going. "I'll ask you one more time before I throw you out of my room: what do you want?"

Her delicate arms came up and crossed her chest as she stared at him for a moment, and he could see her contemplating how to reply to his demand. Finally, as he had just reached the limit of his patience, she spoke, her voice softer than he'd heard it in a long time. "I'm just… concerned, Theo. I've seen you get shaky in class, and once, I saw you race for the bathroom and heard you vomiting. You're thinner this year, too, and paler. Something is definitely off." She sighed and stood up, heading for the door, but stopped with her hand on the brass knob, staring at the oaken panel in front of her. "I know you're not going to tell me anything, but… if you need help… you can call on me."

"Why?" The question was thrown out coldly, with as much doubt and misgiving as he could muster behind a single word.

She did look at him then, but he could read nothing from her features as her mask of indifference was carefully crafted back in place. "Because you helped me once, and I always pay my debts back." With that, she left, closing the door gently behind her.

Teddy stared down at the vial in his hand, and then back up at the spot his ex- had been standing. What debt? He didn't recall ever helping Daphne out; just the opposite, in fact. He'd only recently started talking regularly to her again, and then it was always school related. This was the first personal conversation they'd had since Fifth Year. If he tallied things up, he currently owed her for the borrowing of her class notes the other day. He had absolutely no idea what she was on about, and that worried him.

He spent the remainder of the afternoon in his room, considering everything he'd gleaned from his less-than-ten minute encounter with Miss Rich Bitch, and decided that he'd have to be more careful around Daphne Greengrass. She was a Slytherin, after all, and he knew her heart to be a manipulative shade of red.

x~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~x

At seven o'clock that evening, Draco knocked on Hermione's door. He only wanted to check on her – that was his excuse anyway. She answered in her pajamas, with her toothbrush in her mouth. "Sorry," he apologized immediately, scratching the back of his head in chagrin. "I heard you'd been discharged. Just wanted to see if you were all right."

She beckoned him to come in and returned to the bathroom to spit out her mouth of paste and rinse. He waited in front of the fireplace, standing, not expecting to be there very long. It wasn't one of their nights, after all.

When she was finished, she came back into the bedroom and greeted him with a warm hug. His arms automatically wrapped themselves about her and he tilted his head down to nuzzle her hair, inhaling her wonderful honey-cinnamon-amber scent. "I'm glad you came by," she shyly admitted, pulling back slightly to look up at him. "I get to actually see you without haze or inky shadows in the way." With an impish grin, she reached up her right hand and trailed her index finger down his nose and then over his cheek, where she feathered his skin lightly. "_Much_ better."

He couldn't help but smile back, noticing how natural it felt to run his fingers up and down her spine in soothing strokes. "Do you need anything?"

She opened her mouth, then shut it quickly, and he had the strangest impression that she'd been about to answer his question with a "Just you," reply. Instead, she changed tactics quite unexpectedly. "I dreamed about you last night," she admitted as a slow blush crept up her cheeks. "About doing some of the things you promised we'd do. It's been on my mind all day long."

He paused, feeling his smirk overtake his face again and moving on automatic, he walked her backwards to the couch where he immediately laid her back into the soft cushions and leaned over her. "Like what?" he murmured alluringly against her cheek, feeling his cock wake up in his pants.

She reached up and kissed him sensuously, her tongue twining around his and pulling away very slowly, making him moan and unconsciously shiver in response. "That you wanted me to take your clothes off of you a piece at a time," she explained in between wet kisses. "You didn't help; I did it all by myself. I undressed you slowly, and you just watched me the whole time. And then you pressed yourself into me again, this time all the way."

His breathing picked up pace significantly, and he felt his heart hammering against her lips as she ran them down his neck. "What position did I take you in?" he asked, his right hand trailing over her thin, cotton top. She wasn't wearing a bra and he hummed in appreciation, pinching her nipple lightly in reward. She gasped, and her legs came up on either side of him to cradle his hips against hers. She wiggled her pelvis against him, and his erection sprang into full-on hardness – and that was _before_ she'd even told him the answer to his query.

Placing her lips right next to his ear, she licked lightly and answered him in a breathy whisper. "You were sitting in a chair and I straddled you."

He groaned at the visual. Everything she was doing was quickly melting his resolve; he'd wanted to respect her request for them to stick to their scheduled visits for this kind of thing. But, if things kept up… What the hell? He decided to give it a good nudge and see what happened. "Did I fuck you hard, baby? Or was it slow?" he appealed in that low, come-hither voice he knew she loved.

Hermione ran her fingers over the back of his neck, through his hair as she pressed her mouth to his ear again, biting on his lobe this time. "Slow at first, but soon, you grabbed my hips and took me hard and fast. We came together. I could feel you up inside of me."

Draco knew then that he absolutely had to know the answer to this next question or he'd die...

"Did you come in your sleep?"

Hermione nodded, clearly embarrassed to admit it, but yes, she'd had her first official wet dream, complete with an orgasm that woke her body up with blissful palpitations. When she told him this, he pressed his lips to hers tenderly and gave a lust-filled growl that reverberated deep in his chest. His left hand moved from her breast up to the back of her neck, capturing her head as he turned his for another blazing kiss. "Keep talking to me like this, Granger, and I'm going to throw our lesson plan right out the window," he promised. He pulled her left hand from around his neck and placed it in between his legs. His erection was painfully hard. "I want you so badly right now." He let her stroke him through his pants for a few more seconds, before he pulled her fingers away with a deep sigh. "We need to stop, though."

She actually bit him quite hard on the neck and made a negative appeal with a cute snarling noise in the back of her throat. The sound combined with her punishing act made his penis jump and his whole body jerk in reaction. "Wait, I thought… but this isn't one of our nights," he lamely tried to explain, moving to sit up, but she had her hands tightly wrapped around his neck and wouldn't let him go. And her mouth was doing delicious things to his neck to keep him in place. "You won't be mad if we fool around tonight then?" he asked, and mentally cringed at how anxious and desperate his voice sounded. She shook her head again and continued nipping him right on top of one of his serious turn-on points. "You're sure?" He needed to be absolutely positive. He didn't want any misunderstandings between them. Hermione dug her fingernails into his shirt, gouging his shoulders and thrust her hips against his forcefully in response. "Well, okay, then," he caved with a smirk and proceeded to ravish her.

Very soon, her pajama top was shucked, as was his shoes and his shirt was unbuttoned, and he was suckling her nipples slowly, savoring the flavor of her skin against his tongue and stroking the small rosy bud between her legs, over her bottoms. Hermione's hands were everywhere; she even went so far as to unbuckle his belt, unbutton and unzip his pants and stroke him over his boxers. Draco thought he'd gone to heaven at the first tentative touch she gave against him, despite the cloth between them.

With her free hand, she pushed him away to catch his attention. "Can I touch you… there? Without clothes on?" she asked him timidly, her breath coming in short respires, her fingers trembling against him.

He brushed his nose against her cheek on his way towards her throat. "My body is yours," he whispered hotly in her ear, giving willingly to her the only thing he truly had of value aside from his family's name. "Touch me as you want, baby."

Hesitantly, she pushed his dark slacks down his hips to mid-thigh, and did the same with his shorts, and then she touched his naked length for the very first time. He was so solid and stiff that even the light brush of her exploring fingers caused an ache to travel all the way down to his balls. "Be very gentle," he instructed her. "It's extremely sensitive – especially right now when I'm so hard for you." Even in the very dim light from the fireplace, he caught the blush that traveled over her face at his words, but she kept up her exploration of his cock, moving her hand down to the bottom of the shaft and then back up, running a finger around the crown and pressing against the tiny slit at the very top. He jerked in reaction, and a drop of pre-come appeared at the tip. "That's me getting wet for you," he explained with a moan when she rubbed her fingertip over it, smoothing it across his skin. He licked his lips and shivered at the deliciousness of the sensation as she gently enclosed her hand around him fully.

"You're… larger than I thought you'd be," she admitted shyly, her petite fingers unable to fully wrap around him without forcing it. "Bigger than average."

It was Draco's turn to blush and he coughed a bit in embarrassment, knowing how he compared to most other guys (nothing was really private in the men's dorms or shower rooms, and a man with an almost 21 cm erect dick was often the brunt of sexual comments and envious stares by his mates). "A little bigger," he admitted, but then stopped flat. "How would you know that?" He _seriously_ wanted the answer to this one.

"Human sexuality books," Hermione admitted, continuing to touch up and down him as if they weren't talking shop. "I've done some reading on the subject. I wanted to be prepared."

Draco tried not to laugh, but he couldn't help it. It figured that his girlfriend would check up on that kind of thing in a text. "You are such a bookworm, Granger," he joked and kissed her lips lightly. He stroked her cheek with his fingertips. "Don't worry, we'll fit when it's time." He hoped, anyway. Only one girl he'd been with had been able to take him fully into her without the pain of hitting the cervix, but then Fay had wide hips, she'd been fully broken in by the time Draco had hooked up with her, and she liked a little pain with her sex, anyway. He hoped that Hermione wouldn't be too hurt by him when they finally did start having sex. He'd love to be sheathed all the way up inside of her.

That thought rolled a wave of lustful longing through him, and he removed her grasp from his person for a moment as he sat up in between her legs and pulled his shirt off, tossing it to the ground. He yanked his pants and boxers completely down and off his legs, too, until he was fully naked for her for the first time. "Lesson five," he whispered in the hush, leaning over her and resting his hands on either side of her head, "learning how to please your partner with your touch alone." His face was mere centimeters from hers as he looked down at her. He reached out and took her right hand in his left again. "Stroke me like this, baby," he led her, and began moving her on his shaft with a little bit of pressure. "Not too tight, and be sure to go all the way up and down." He guided her expertly with one hand, and when she got the rhythm and pressure correct, he let her go, and grabbed her free hand with his right, guiding it towards his sack that hung down below, widening his stance at the same time. "Cup me like this," he taught her and then rolled her fingers over his balls, gasping as they moved together. "Lightly there. Those are _wicked_ sensitive." He taught her all about the little vein that ran underneath, and showed her that when pressed just right, it did for him what her clit did for her. Then, he let her go and let her do as she pleased to him.

They didn't talk, but stared at each other the whole time, their breaths exhaling over each other's faces faster and faster. Hermione's face was an adorable mix of intense concentration and amazement and once more, her penchant for learning quick was quite unbelievable; she had him tightening up his lower muscles and making desperate grunts as she worked him towards climax quickly. His pre-come made the path between their skin slick and warm, allowing her fingers to slip over him easily, and the wet slapping sound of his flesh being pumped by her heightened the experience a thousand fold. When she rubbed her thumb up and over his tip on the upstroke, he heaved, shut his eyes and let out a quick breath suddenly. That familiar hot build-up centered near her hands was now reaching the point of no return. "Do you want me to come for you? On you?" he asked desperately, snapping his lids open once more, his breathing rapid. If she said no, he'd have to pull away immediately.

Hermione simply nodded, apparently unable to speak, her eyes very wide in the shadow of his big body, her lips slightly parted in rousing tension. It was all the permission Draco needed. In a rush, he pressed his hips down near her bared abdomen, panting deeply now. He swallowed hard, his eyes slamming shut and clamped his teeth down, tightening his jaw at the same time. He clenched every muscle, forcing his body to drive towards that one, single-minded goal of finding bliss without any thought to pain. After a dozen or so more passes of her nimble fingers, he forced himself to open his eyes. "I'm coming, Granger," he bit out tensely, straining with everything inside as the inferno within burned him up. "Grip me tighter and watch."

She did as he bade and looked down between them, and his penis jerked violently as he thrust his hips between her fingers hard. Fire erupted through his cock, his balls contracted and pulsed, and he shouted her name as his hot, liquid seed shot up through him and out all over her hands and belly. He continued to pump himself though her small fingers several more times as more come gushed out of him, and he hissed, his breath exploding across her face as he let himself go fully.

When the wave passed over him, he knelt above her weakly, gasping for breath, and when she loosened her grip on him, he exhaustedly collapsed to his side next to her. It was a good minute or more before his sanity returned. He looked over at her, but Hermione's focus was on her abdomen. He glanced down in curiosity to see her running her left hand over her tummy, rubbing his ejaculation into her skin. She seemed utterly fascinated and confounded by it at the same time. "Did you like that?" he asked, kissing her shoulder. "Do you like the feel of me on you?"

She reached for his right hand, which was resting lightly across her thigh, and entwined their fingers, then ran them together over the cooling stickiness coating her skin. She smiled. "It feels… soft." She turned her head to him. "I loved touching you. I loved watching your face and feeling your silky skin between my fingers, and knowing you were coming because of me. Can we do it again?"

He tiredly laughed. "You'll have to wait for me to recharge," he admitted. "Give me half an hour."

He and Hermione moved to her bed and she jerked him off two more times that night before he was finally knackered around one a.m. "I spent hours at Quidditch this afternoon," he yawned into her shoulder, snuggling against her. "You're lucky I could get it up at all, baby."

She'd Scourgify'd the mess off of both of them with her wand, then snuggled with him under the covers together, setting her wand to buzz them awake at six o'clock. The last thing Draco was aware of was his girlfriend's hands lovingly stroking his hair and her soft, tired voice wishing him sweet dreams as he snuggled his head against her naked breast.


	7. Chapters 13 and 14

**CHAPTER THIRTEEN: WHY CAN'T I BREATHE?**

_**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland**_

_**Monday, November 17, 1997 – Wednesday, November 19, 1997**_

Hermione felt a little frazzled upon returning to classes on Monday. She had a lot of catch-up homework to get done, so in between classes, she spent her free periods working on a Potions essay that would be due this upcoming Friday morning. That night, she completed a two hundred word Herbology essay that Professor Sprout had assigned her on Alihotsy and its known effects on Sneezewort poisoning (the woman planned to present Hermione's findings – in the girl's name, of course – at the next Plantae Exposition, coming up next February) to make up for missing the lab last week. And by Tuesday night, she'd finally caught up on all of her Charms reading (four chapters) and even had time to practice the various spells she'd memorized.

Despite the bliss of the study grind (usually her favorite pastime) and her Head Girl duties (including checking in with the Prefects, the Headmaster and the news agencies about the upcoming Yule Ball plans), Hermione was feeling strangely lonely. She had been surrounded by her core group of friends incessantly since her return, but despite the cheery company, she was poignantly missing Draco. With the last Quidditch game of the season for Slytherin coming up that weekend, he had very little freedom left over to spend with her (in between meetings with his team and his head of household, Snape, and the extra practices crammed into every available time slot). Understanding the necessary constraints put on those in a leadership position, and recognizing her own overly booked schedule at the moment, she tried very hard not to be resentful of being away from her boyfriend. Yet, the ache in her heart wouldn't let her forget how important Malfoy had become to her in such a short amount of time, especially when she lay down at night alone in her bed. She missed his warm, comforting presence beside her, holding her as she rested against him; she'd grown accustomed to him being nearby so frequently these last few days.

By Tuesday night, she was so frustrated with her focus constantly being intruded upon by thoughts of Draco, she resorted to Muggle meditation techniques. After returning to her normal phase of time in the library, she sat down cross-legged in her favorite wooden chair, closed her eyes, resting her hands lightly on her knees and disciplined her breathing. She pictured ocean waves coming in and rolling back out, tuning out all other thoughts, seeking clarity.

"Hey, Granger."

Hermione nearly fell out of her chair in surprise as Teddy threw his satchel down across from her and began pulling his textbooks out. "Sleeping on the job, I see," he baited her with a grin. Mildly annoyed for being caught in a somewhat embarrassing position, she shushed him, returning to her previous pose.

"Can't you see that I'm meditating, you unbaked half-loaf?"

"And what, oh Great Divining Witch of the West, are you meditating on exactly?" he asked, his voice a husky low tone she hadn't heard from him ever before. He sniffled and she absently wondered if he had a cold coming on.

"The mysteries of the universe. Opening my inner eye. That sort of thing," she murmured teasingly sarcastic. "I'm gunning for Professor Trelawney's job when I graduate. Didn't you know?"

Silence greeted her rather lame attempt at humor, so she hesitantly peeled her lids back and peeked out, hoping she hadn't scared her friend off by appearing too sincere. Teddy's face was unexpectedly centimeters from hers, their noses almost touching. He was staring at her with wide, mismatched, spooky eyes, his face a mask of concentration. "Boo!" he challenged a little sinisterly and jumped forward slightly. Hermione did fall out of her chair then - with a most undignified yelp. Her friend stood up to his full height and busted out laughing, pointing at her as she rubbed her sore bum and threw him a nasty glare. "Oh, man, you should see your face!" he hooted, taking too much enjoyment from her misfortune. "I've never seen a person turn purple before!"

Sheepishly Hermione stood and dusted her backside, naively not paying attention to how close this brought her into Teddy's personal space. "Hardy ha-o-ha," she sarcastically replied, still brushing at her skirt. "You're a real riot, Ted. So, what are you doing here tonight anyway? Stalking me now?"

She looked up and only then noticed that he was practically pressed into her; she could actually feel the heat radiating off his body. His face had gone neutral as he stared down at her, but his eyes flashed hot with longing and… something darker. Abruptly, she was uncomfortable and wary of him, feminine instincts kicking in and moving her unconsciously a step backwards. Her face exploded with fire and her heart leapt into her throat. "I actually was on my way out," she stammered, all too aware that this handsome man, whom she was still partially attracted to still, was hawkishly watching her with blatant lust in his eyes. "I'm done studying for the evening."

His hand snaked out and grabbed her arm, restraining her lightly. "You only arrived half an hour ago. Don't leave on my account. Stay."

She tactfully removed his hand from her person and turned to gathered her things into her bag, her pulse loud in her ears. "Yes, well, I've been doing a lot of reading since my sight returned, to make up for missing so much. I'm tired now." It wasn't a complete lie, but it was a weak cover for her discomfort.

Almost casually, Teddy stepped up behind her and his hand reached out just past her to flip open her Advanced Charms book on the desk. It fell open to her bookmarked, recently completed chapter. "Still two more lessons to go before you catch up, Granger," he murmured, his mouth so close to her ear that his hot breath tickled her neck. Her blood started racing through her veins in response. "Do you need help practicing these?"

She shook her head a little too nervously, grabbed her book and shoved it into her bag with the others shuffling around Teddy's body quickly, and made for the exit. "No, thank you though. I'll practice with Draco. Good night!" She hurriedly raced out of the library and once her feet hit the corridor, she sprinted all the way back up to her room on the Fifth Floor. As she closed the door behind her, she leaned against it, shaking.

Great gobstones, what just happened?

Had Teddy been pursuing her? Should she tell Draco about her suspicions? But if she did, would the two best friends have a major falling out? And, was there even the slightest possibility that some of the blame for what just happened in the library could be laid at her feet? She _had_ been a tad too playful with Teddy lately, after all. Yet, in her own defense, she'd assumed it had all been in good fun and meant nothing. But, maybe Teddy hadn't seen it that way. Had she inadvertently given him the wrong impression? She knew he liked her in a romantic way, but she'd believed his loyalty to Draco was stronger than his feelings for her. Then again, what did she _really_ know about Theodore Nott? Aside from her weeks of observation and a few conversations here and there, she knew almost nothing about his background. The guy had tried to kill himself, for Godric's sake, and she _still _didn't understand why. Was he maybe a little more mentally and emotionally unbalanced than she'd supposed? That thought frightened her.

The question remained: what was the right way to handle this situation without making things worse? The only experience she could call upon that was even remotely similar had been the convoluted mess she'd made during the last Yule Ball, when she'd gone with Viktor Krum partially to catch Ron's attention. Playing two men off each other had blown up rather spectacularly in her face and nearly cost her two important friendships. If she involved Draco in this - whatever it was that just happened in the library with Teddy - would the results be similar? Her boyfriend had been terribly jealous when he'd misinterpreted her innocent hand-holding with Ron last week. To learn that his best friend and she had been play-flirting behind his back, and that it may have led to Teddy's subsequent actions… she was sure the results wouldn't be good.

This situation was now officially convoluted.

The fact was, Teddy had scared her tonight, whether by accident or not, but she didn't want to risk losing Draco or causing he and Teddy to be at odds over it. She resolved, therefore, to keep her mouth shut this time, and to be careful not to be alone with Teddy again. If he came after her a second time, then she would tell Draco what was going on (what was the old Muggle saying? Once - a slip; twice - intentional). This was the only way she could see that would prevent bad feelings all around.

Absently, her hand touched the point on her throat where Teddy's hot breath could still phantom be felt and she felt decidedly ill knowing it had excited her, even for a fraction of a second.

x~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~x

Teddy sniffed in disgust at himself as he gathered up his things and made his way back to his Common Room. What the hell was he thinking making moves on Hermione like that? He'd frightened her by being too close, and her reaction _definitely_ bothered him. Hadn't he earned her trust yet? He'd thought they'd been making progress, especially after their little talk in the hallway that afternoon that he'd found her distraught and crying. For Slytherin's sake, she'd sniffled all over his vest as he'd held her then! And yet, she'd practically run from him tonight for simply standing near her once more and touching her arm.

Lifting a shaky hand to his forehead, he pushed his hair back. He wasn't feeling particularly well again, his fever spiking despite having just taken some of his potion less than an hour ago. He passed hurriedly by many of his housemates without a thought as he made for his dorm, hoping to grab another vial from his trunk. Adrian Pucey was in residence, though, when Teddy opened his door.

"Hey, mate, back from the library already?"

Biting back a nasty comment, Teddy forced himself to remain calm. He was hot and frustrated and angry with himself, and not in any particular mood for socializing. He needed his potion fast before the nausea and sweating began. "I've got a headache," he excused gruffly, tossing his robe over the end of his bed and slipping his shoes off. "I'm going to sleep now."

Pucey hesitated, giving him an odd look, but nodded in acceptance and headed for the door. "I'm out anyway. I'll tell the others to keep it quiet. Feel better, yeah?" With that, Adrian slipped out the door and Teddy waited until the guy's footsteps faded before sitting up and reaching into his trunk for another vial of his medicine. He chugged it down, put the empty glass ampoule in his book bag so he could remember to return it to Madam Pomfrey tomorrow, and wearily changed for bed. It was only eight o'clock, but he was more than ready to call the day over. Tossing his dirties down the laundry chute, he slipped under the covers, waved his wand to close off his curtains, and lay staring up at his canopy.

What a gods damned mess he'd made tonight. How was he going to explain himself? He'd so obviously been hitting on Granger; had actually contemplated leaning down and pressing his mouth to her neck! What kind of fucking friend was he anyway?

With a deep sigh, he closed his eyes, but sleep didn't come for him for another hour. His dreams that night were plagued with memories of his father's crazy, mismatched eyes – eyes that were the exact opposite of his, blue on the other side from green - as they stared lifelessly up at the sky.

x~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~x

Wednesday started out better than the previous two days, as Draco actually managed to spend some quality time with Hermione at breakfast. After finishing off a rather delicious jam toast and bacon-egg pie together, they walked hand-in-hand to Herbology where they partnered up with Teddy. Almost immediately, he noticed a chilly atmosphere between his girlfriend and his best friend, and he wondered what might have happened between them to make them both so edgy.

"What's up with you two?" he muttered under his breath as they all bent over a Chinese Chomping Cabbage, trying to trick it with live bait into opening up so they could yank out a few of its leaves.

Teddy sighed heavily. "I offended your girlfriend last night in the library," he explained, then turned to Hermione. "I'm sorry, Granger. I didn't mean to upset you."

Hermione stared up at Teddy for a moment, biting her lip, and then nodded with a tight smile. "It's okay, Teddy. Let's just forget it, okay?" With that, she turned back to their day's assignment, her face scrunching up as if she'd just eaten something sour. "Now, who wants to feed it the grub worms and who wants to do the plucking?"

Teddy stalked off towards the dorms immediately after class (his mood strangely down and a little hostile almost, Draco noted), so he shared lunch in the Great Hall with Hermione, just the two of them preferring to sit alone at the end of Slytherin's table, their heads bent close as they talked and laughed and fed each other. Whatever small blight that had begun spoiling the day earlier was now completely in the past, and the hour they spent together was fun and relaxing. When the one o'clock bell rang out, it was with great reluctance that Draco parted from his girlfriend. He gave her a blazing kiss with some naughty tongue and promised to see her later that evening for their appointed rendezvous before heading off to his regularly scheduled Quidditch practice with the team, while she scampered off towards her afternoon N.E.W.T. Prep Lecture.

The Slytherins were just coming off the pitch at four o'clock when the Ravenclaw team unexpectedly appeared. Their Captain and Seeker, Cho Chang, informed him that she'd reserved the pitch until seven o'clock, so he informed his teammates covertly to meet back at the pitch at six – in their uniforms - so they could surreptitiously watch their rivals and form strategies. They would then catch an extra hour and a half of practice afterwards he declared firmly, reminding them of the ultimate prize they were all striving towards. There were a few groans, but everyone agreed that they wanted a solid shot at the Cup this year (especially since four of the eight main players and two of the four reserve players were graduating in June), and sneaking a look at the Screaming Eagles' tactics would give the Silver Serpents a definite advantage. They caught a quick dinner together at five, returned to the Quidditch area under Disillusionment Charms by six, and finally got back on their brooms at seven-fifteen, making sure that the Ravenclaw team had no idea they'd been analyzed, nor that the Slytherins were retaking the pitch to sneakily practice some of the tactics they'd designed to counter the Eagles' feinting moves. By eight-thirty, everyone was exhausted, but the emotions were running confident and high. This just might be Slytherin's year to take the Cup back after all!

The only thing that got Draco through the punishing regime of the late afternoon was reminding himself that later he would be with Hermione again. His sexy girlfriend had been on his mind constantly in the waking and sleeping minutes since Sunday, and obsessed as he was, Draco knew nothing would keep him from her room tonight. Granger had become his new drug of choice, and he needed a hit _badly_.

By nine o'clock, he was practically buzzing as he knocked on her door. She answered wearing a light pink baby doll, three-quarter sleeve, cotton shirt with a plunging scoop neckline (her luscious cleavage beckoned!) and a pair of dark, form-fitting Muggle yoga pants. Her adorable feet were bare and her hair was up in a ponytail at the top of her head. "Hiya," he greeted, a little unsure of appearing in his Quidditch outfit (he'd scampered from the locker room immediately after the team had finished, grabbing his bag with his change of clothes and shower kit). He cleared his throat. "Sorry to come here in uniform, but I just finished up practice. Didn't want to be late."

Hermione's eyes roamed up and down his body, taking him all in, and without further ado, she reached out, grabbed his arm, and with a strength he didn't know she possessed, she dragged him into her room and shut the door quickly behind him. So taken aback by her reaction, Draco was completely unprepared for her body slamming against his, their combined weight pinning him up against the door itself, nor for her lips smashing onto his with brute ferocity. It took him only a second or two for his semi-fatigued brain to catch up, and then he unceremoniously dropped his gym bag, and slung his arms around her waist, kissing her back with equal ardor. They Frenched with a passion that Draco had always dreamed he'd share with a woman – honest in its desire, unrestrained in its primacy, filled with promises for better things to come.

After a good ten minutes of serious lip locking and tongue thrusting action, Hermione finally pulled back, ending the kiss by biting his lower lip, which made his cock jerk in his pants. She looked at him, grinning. "Is it an 'O' _yet_?" she asked, and for a second, Draco's mind was in the gutter. Then he remembered the reference and smirked, playing along.

"Close," he teased. "Keep trying."

She suddenly wrinkled her nose. "You're dirty and sweaty."

"Final game this weekend. Important match," he explained, proudly grinning. "I intend on winning. I want a shot at Potter in the finals next May."

She rolled her eyes and grinned, pointing to her bathroom imperiously. "Go take a shower."

He laughed and rubbed his clammy body all over her and she mocked being disgusted and grunted a fake protest. "Now you smell, too, baby. Guess you'll have to join me." He waggled his eyebrows at her in play, but suddenly her face became _very_ serious. A blush crept up her neck and cheeks, and she bit her lip. It was _that look_ again, and he knew it meant her mind was contemplating what he'd just offered. He held his breath, waiting to see what she would say or do.

She opened her mouth, shut it, then swallowed and spoke softly. "Can I?"

Draco couldn't have been more surprised than if she'd offered herself up in a gelatin bikini. He hadn't planned on attempting to take all her clothes off of her tonight; he'd just wanted some serious snogging time with her. But, damn, by the look on her face, she was serious wasn't she? And it wouldn't just be her nude in the shower if he agreed. That could lead to some profound fooling around again. "Are you sure?" he heard himself asking, even though the devilish part of his psyche smacked him upside the head for even voicing such a stupid question. The angel on his shoulder applauded his courtesy, however - although it also warned that maybe they were moving too fast once more. For the moment, he ignored the tug-o-war within and paid attention to her response.

She ran her hands down to his pecks and began lightly touching the ridges of his muscles through his layers of clothes. "Yes," she determinedly stated. "I want to see you again." Her eyes glittered with desire as her hands roamed up his chest. "I liked what we did the other night."

Draco's ego did the Sideways Mambo around the room, completely out of control. Oh, yeah! His girl _wanted_ him naked and willing! Not that he ever had any doubt, but still… He took a deep breath, reigning himself in before he foolishly mimicked his strutting Id, and then he asked himself the totally hard question: should he go for it, or be good and take it slow? _You could do a little of both_, he convinced himself easily enough. "All right, but you keep your knickers on, Granger," he offered. "Otherwise, I won't be able to stop myself from screwing you against the wall, which is something I don't think you'd want yet. Agreed?"

She nodded anxiously. Draco cupped her chin and forced it up so she would look at him. They locked eyes, and he found himself once more drowning in those dark cinnamon depths. "Okay then. Lead on, baby." Hermione licked her lips as he took her hand, bent and gathered his gym bag by the handles, and he followed her to the bathroom. She turned in the doorway, _Accio_'d her wand with a non-verbal thought, and waved it at the door, locking it and silencing the whole room for privacy. She then magically lit the candles on the bathroom wall.

"Ambiance," he grinned. "Nice." He put his gym bag on the sink counter, withdrew his kit, opened the glass door to the shower and set his things down, then came back out and stood before her. He looked her up and down, noting that her earlier light blush of embarrassment had become more a flush of excitement over the intervening seconds since they'd entered this room. He got in close and personal, leaned down and kissed her gently, taking her hands in his, trying to ease her. "This is still part of Lesson five," he explained, "So I want you to undress me." He stepped back a bit and let her hands go.

Hermione licked her lips again, hesitating only a second, and then she reached for his outer, dark green robe, shedding it off his shoulders and collecting it from behind him to fold up and put in his gym bag. As she did so, she looked up at him with a rare combination of shyness and sultry sensuality, sliding the clothes off of him slowly. They locked eyes as she removed his dark brown leather arm guards next, undoing the silver buckles and pulling them off with equally unhurried movements. These, too, went in the bag. Next were his matching finger gloves, which she tossed next to the guards. She reached around Draco's waist and tugged his long-sleeved, dark green knit sweater and the thermal shirt under it up and over his head, mussing his hair. Yanking his arms forward, she slid the clothes over his biceps and forearms, then tangled them around his wrists and held on tightly, trapping his hands effectively. His smirk became positively wicked. "You'd like to tie me up and have your way with me, wouldn't you?" he softly asked in that low voice he reserved only for her.

She nodded, scrutinizing his well-cut physique once more. "Yes." The word was barely a whisper, and it trembled across her lips as her eyes darkened with intense desire. In that moment, Draco was again thankful for all the hours he'd spent working out. The blatant, hot lust displayed on Hermione Granger's face as she unabashedly drooled over him made all of the punishing, painful hours of sit-ups, push-ups, and pull-ups totally worth it. Shaking his white-blond bangs out of his eyes, he leaned forward until his nose was touching hers, staring at her with deliberate hunger. "Keep going," he murmured in a growl, trying to draw her attention back to the task at hand.

Disentangling his arms next, Hermione heedlessly discarded his shirts across the gym bag, and then knelt down in front of him to remove his hard leather shin guards, dark brown, soft leather Quidditch shoes, and thick, winter socks. When that was done, she ran her hands up the sides of his cream-colored team pants to his waist eagerly. With lightly shaking fingers, she undid all four buttons in the front and slowly slid the sport chinos from his hips. He stepped out of them, pushing them back with his foot without thought, waiting for the final piece of his clothing to come off at her hands.

She looked up at him, noting his erection tenting his dark green boxer-briefs and skimmed her hands back up his legs, around his waist, and then glided two fingers towards his bellybutton and followed a path down his length. The silken fabric stroked against him and Draco moaned as his penis twitched. He stroked her cheek fondly as she moved her hand over his shorts, slowly up and down, making him ache. Easing his torment, she removed her hand from its sinful endeavors and thumbed the waistband of the boxers, working them down and over his shaft, past his knees, and lifting each of his feet, she slipped his underwear off and pushed them to the side. With a deep inhalation, she stood up and stepped back, looking upon him fully again. A shiver ran all up and down her body and her mouth parted slightly in yearning.

Feeling cocksure, he bent his mouth to her ear and whispered alluringly. "I didn't say we couldn't fool around in the shower, Hermione. Just no penetration." She nodded eagerly in understanding.

Inspired to participate now that he was fully unclothed, Draco tugged his girl's shirt up and over her body and tossed it next to his clothes on the floor, kissing her neck and ear the whole while. He worked her bra clasps open in the back, and slipped the thin straps slowly off her shoulders, down her arms, letting the white cotton and lace fabric drop to the floor between them. He pressed their naked chests together and they gasped at the same time from the sensation of naked skin marrying together. She was warm and soft, and her nipples were erect against him, and he stood still just holding her tightly pressed against him for a few moments, inhaling deeply into her hairline, scenting cinnamon, honey and amber – her signature fragrance. He was both comforted and craving her at the same time in those few seconds.

His fingers smoothed around to the waist tie on her pants, and he pulled the string, loosening the bow, then tugged the garment off her hips and let it slide down on its own. She kicked it away. Only her panties were left between them; a thin strip of cotton was all that separated them from being complete skin-on-skin. Draco wanted so badly to rip them off her, but they'd made a deal which he'd forced upon them both. Like he'd said, there was no going back.

Pulling himself away reluctantly, he turned to the shower and stepped through the open glass door to turn the faucets on. After adjusting the temperature, he pulled her in after him and shut the door behind, then stepped back, letting the spray fall over his shoulders. He tilted his head back to get his hair wet, and then, with an easy lift and turn, he positioned her under the water next. In seconds, she was drenched. Her hair was straightened by the weight soaking into it, and he realized how very long it was then – half the way down her back; apparently, her natural ringlets shortened it when dry. The water cascaded down her breasts, stomach and hips beautifully, and saturated her white cotton knickers - which did nothing to hide the dark curls underneath. Draco felt his blood pounding through his veins in uncontrolled lust as she guided the water through her hair, absolutely clueless as to how stunningly delicious she was.

Speaking of that crazy mop of hers… Reaching for her shampoo, which sat within the recessed nook in the wall, he poured some of the liquid out into his hand. It smelled like warm vanilla. "Come here," he bid and she recognized what he was about and spun around for him without being told to. He began lathering up her hair, careful not to rub too hard. She leaned back against him and tilted her head forward, making noises of approval as he massaged her scalp. He then directed her back under the spray face first and made sure to get all of the soap out. After, he pulled her back against him in the same position and reached for her conditioner. "That feels wonderful," she admitted, groaning in pleasure as he worked her tension away. "You've got magic fingers."

Draco chuckled, and couldn't resist the retort that bubbled from his lips. "These aren't the only appendages of mine that are magical, baby." He rubbed his length up against her from behind teasingly and Hermione shuddered in response. She wiggled her bottom against him in an unexpected response and he jerked back with a hiss. Her giggles were loud in the echoing tile room, and he spanked her lightly in response. "Fresh."

He shoved her back under the water to wash the conditioner from her hair, and when it was thoroughly done, he whipped her around and traded places with her, reaching for his own shampoo. She stopped him with a hand over his. "Let me," she offered. He smirked and nodded, and bent his head so she could first wash, then condition his hair for him.

Now came the part he'd been looking forward to since the offer had been made to join him in the shower... He reached for his soap, grabbed his terry cotton wash cloth and rubbed them together until the fabric was sudsy, and then he brought it to her chest. He gently rubbed in a slow circular motion across her collar, up the right side of her throat, down the connecting shoulder, and over and under her arm. He bathed her right hand, taking each finger and rubbing over and between each gap, then up her wrist, and traced his way back to the center of her collar. Then, he worked the left side the same way. There was nothing sexual in the touching at first; he was merely washing her and enjoying every second of taking care of her this way. He washed her abdomen, careful not to touch her breasts yet, and then turned her slowly to scrub her back, sweeping her hair over her shoulder and out of the way. As he traced the cloth down her spine, she shivered. He knelt down and sponged her legs, ankles and feet. On the way back up, he playfully tickled the back of her knees and she giggled, jerking away. He grinned and kissed each crease in mock apology.

When Draco finished, he wrapped his arms around her, holding her back against him, and only then did he touch her chest. He ran the cloth gently around each curve, lifting both breasts up individually to wash underneath, then slowly moved it over her right nipple – which reacted instantly, hardening tight – then her left, with the same result. He made circular motions with her flesh, and she grabbed at his hip behind her to steady herself, moaning in desire. Dropping the wash rag without further regard, he let his fingers take over, running them over both breasts simultaneously. She let out a loud "_Ooooh!_" as he rolled and pinched her between his soapy fingers. "You have the most gorgeous tits, Granger," he murmured in her ear, then placed kisses up and down her cheek. "I love fondling them."

She moaned again, and started waggling her bottom against him. The soap on her lower back rubbed against his hard, exposed length and it felt so good against her smooth skin. He groaned, shoving his hips up once, but pulled away quickly to avoid further temptation. Walking backwards, he pulled her under the water with him to rinse her off, and she whimpered, obviously lamenting the loss of the sensations that being slippery and pliant provided. He sniffed in amusement. "Don't worry, baby," he offered. "We're not done yet." He placed a kiss on her neck. "It's your turn to wash me now."

He let her go and turned the shower head to the wall so it wouldn't fall upon them anymore. Leaning against the tile, he waited for her next move. She did as predicted – bent to pick up the wash cloth, wrung it out, then turned to him and picked up the soap, reapplying it. They held gazes as she worked, and he could almost taste her knotted trepidation and enthusiasm on his tongue, so palpable was it between them. When she was ready, she approached him.

Draco was surprised when she didn't copy his exploration path, as he'd been anticipating. Instead, she started at his fingers and worked her way up, lazily moving as if memorizing each curve and every visible vein under his skin. She took her time, touching lightly, reverently and his heart ached in response. Had he been wrong; was she starting to love him? His breath hitched in his chest as she moved into his body to work. She scrubbed his neck, ears and face, and then reached up on tip toe to turn the shower back on him so he could get the soap off those places immediately. Then, she moved the shower head back and continued her discovery of his body, moving the wash rag over his pecks, caressing his nipples. He gasped at the acute stab of longing that shot like electricity all up and down his spine as she worked him up as thoroughly as he'd done her earlier. Then, she moved on, down his abs, stopping at his hips, careful not to touch his erection. She knelt – gods, how many times had he envisioned her in that position? – and washed his legs and feet.

He saw the wicked grin an instant before her fingers snuck behind his leg and tickled his vulnerable spot behind his knees in retribution. He jerked a little and let out a laugh, and she looked up into his eyes with a mischievous grin. He shook his head warningly at her, but the smile on his face ruined the threat, he was sure. Still, she didn't look for that kind of trouble any longer as she finished washing him up to his thighs. There, she stopped and stood up, rouging again all over, the blood flushing through her layers of skin beautifully. He pulled her into his embrace. "I'm dying for you to touch me everywhere, Hermione. Do it, _please_."

Her breathing picked up, but she nodded and moved away from him to turn the spray back on him. When he was clean, she replaced the shower head once more towards the wall and she started back at his chest again, running her fingernails this time over his nipples. His eyes closed for a moment and he huffed heavy on an exhale to let her know it felt good. She did it again, and then rolled and pinched him as he had done to her. His head tilted back against the tile and he swallowed back enflaming desire. "Baby, that feels _really_ good," he told her. "Don't stop."

He wanted to empower her to be bolder, so as she played with his sensitive skin, he encouraged her verbally and through physical cues and within minutes, she was definitely inspired. Her hands slid over the ridges of his stomach muscles and he flexed them for her. She gave him a playful smile, and ran her fingers over him again. He contracted the muscles a second time and her smile turned positively radiant. "That's neat every time I see it," she told him. "I can't do that."

He laughed. "Do enough crunches and I'm sure you'll look like a boy in no time."

She snickered and then ran her finger down to his bellybutton again, dipping into it. This time, it wasn't intentional when he flexed; she was hitting a spot that quite unexpectedly turned him on. His penis jerked in response, and she noticed. Her eyes were instantly transfixed on his member. He looked down between them to watch her hand move slowly over the head once more. She worked him over as she had previously, bringing him slowly towards climax and he tried to keep his eyes on her, but it was difficult, as they squeezed shut every so often on their own as he felt the ripples of pleasure roll through him. His breathing came faster and his heart started pumping furiously against his ribs. "Can I touch you?" he asked, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides as he tried to control himself. "I want to feel you, too."

She froze, her hand stopping its stroking and he shuddered at the unexpected release of pressure. Slowly, she nodded her head. "Okay."

"I promise I won't take your knickers off," he breathed in her ear as he pulled her directly against him. "And I'll be gentle. I just… I _have_ to know what you feel like." One arm held her to him as the other worked its way between them to the top band of her panties. Quickly, before she changed her mind, he slipped his hand under the fabric and let his fingers roam over her curly snatch for the first time. "Spread your legs for me," he coaxed hotly in her ear, lathing the lobe with his tongue. She complied and his fingers opened her labia and stroked her hot, moist flesh, rimming then lightly dipping a fingertip into her opening very briefly, then working all the way up to her clit. Her hymen was definitely still intact; he'd felt the narrow opening and the thin skin surrounding it just then, and he made a mental note to be very careful not to tear it as he fingered her.

Hermione moaned at the sensation of him flicking her little, hard bead directly, and her head lolled back as her free hand on his bicep clenched and her nails dug into him. Her hand on his todger had not moved, but he noted she was clasped tightly around him. He teased and played with her for long minutes, coating her insides with her own juices, sucking on her neck's pulse as he pleasured her with his hand. She actually stood on tiptoes and laid her forehead on his shoulder, shuddering and panting at one point as he rubbed tight, fast circles around her fleshy, little core.

Her reaction made him twitch again and he felt his balls tighten up. "Stroke me," he charged, running his tongue all up and down her throat, then circling around to capture her lips in a kiss that was meant to burn her up. She keened as he pinched her clit at the same moment as his tongue thrust through her lips, and her hand on his member started its rhythmic motion up and down again over him, causing him to dribble a stream of pre-come all over them both. The clear goo slicked the way for her flesh to easily slip and glide over him, and very soon, he was loudly gasping from the sensations.

Removing his hand from her panties he pushed back a bit and rubbed some of his liquid pre-ejaculate onto his fingers, making sure she watched what he was doing. With his eyes fastened on her expression, he returned those same fingers to her pussy, rubbing his fluid against her clit, mingling it with her own juices. It was such an intimate and erotic thing to share with her; he'd never intentionally marked a woman in such a way.

With gentle thrusts, he moved his index finger up inside of her then, making sure not to go in too hard or too far, and in response, Hermione propelled her hand back over his cock, the pace returning to where it had been before he'd stopped them. She felt fan-fucking-tastic! He leaned his lips next to her ear. "Granger..." he whispered her name hotly, clenching his teeth as that pleasure-pain principal crept up on him all too quickly. He rubbed his nose in her hair and bit her nape wildly, his index finger carefully driving into her virginal entrance as his palm rubbed up and down against her outside g-spot. "_Bloody hell_, woman, you drive me mad with wanting you. You're on my mind constantly. I can't stop thinking about doing this with you. Do you feel the same way, baby?" He wanted to know he was haunting her as much as she did him. She nodded as she began pressing kisses down his throat, shivering as she continued to stroke him and as his finger toyed with her vagina. "Tell me then," he coaxed, leaning in to lick at her mouth. "Tell me how you feel, Hermione," he implored, his voice a rough growl. "I want to know."

His love leaned in and spoke against his lips in a breathy, raspy voice that made his heart flutter. "I… I only want you touching me this way, Draco. I only want to do these things with you." Staring at him through half-shuttered lids, heat bloomed on her cheeks as her wet, rosy lips parted. "At night, I dream about us. In classes, it's hard to concentrate on taking notes if you're sitting next to me, and when you're not there, I'm daydreaming about you. You drive me to distraction, too. I feel like… you're consuming me." She pressed desperate kisses to his lips.

His heart slammed against his ribs at her words. She _did_ want him for more than just casual sex. But how deep did those feelings go?

"Draco…" she looked at him intently. "If you wanted to, we could… I want to."

He inhaled deeply, praying for the strength not to give into his true desire to fuck her right there in the shower. Merlin, he wanted to do nothing more than turn her towards the wall, put her hands up on the tiles, bend her over and thrust into her hard and fast. But he knew that it wouldn't be right for her first time to take her in such a way. No, when he took her virginity, he wanted her in her bed, with her hair fanned out over her pillow, and he wanted to take his time. "Baby, you don't know how tempting that offer is, but it's not time yet. Soon, though," he murmured and released her waist with the one arm that had pinned her to him, placing that hand over her own and forcing her grip around his member to tighten even more, pumping fast and furious now, even as his fingers below began working seriously on her clit again. He kissed her like he was going to eat her mouth. "Just a few more things to teach you and then I swear I'll fuck you so good," he vowed as her whimpers were crescendoing into full-out cries. He felt his balls tighten up, knew he was close to spilling over himself. He pressed his forehead to hers. "Damn, Granger, please say you're close!"

She nodded, standing on tiptoe again. "A little more," she gasped, kissing him equally as ardent. "I'm almost… Ye-yes… oh… oh… Draco… oooh, yes… _Draco!_" She came and her hand around him grew so tight that he had to bite his own lip to prevent himself from following her immediately; he wanted to feel her orgasm against his hand. Her thighs clenched together and the walls of her canal rippled around his finger as he slipped it into her carefully once more. Her face pressed into his chest and the nails of her free hand dug into his shoulder as her climax took her over. "Oh, gods… _oh, gods!_" She mewled as her body kept pulsing for several more seconds before the wave retreated slowly and her body relaxed.

Draco held on by only the narrowest thread, balancing right on that edge of pain, wanting to make sure she was completely sated. Finally, when she began to sag against him, unable to wait any longer, he grabbed her hand that surrounded his hard flesh and drove it over his cock almost violently. After three passes, he pulled away and looked down. "Watch me come for you," he demanded, his voice rough. She followed his gaze, pressed her lower body against his once more, joining them at the pelvis, and that brought him over. "Oh, _fuck_!" he shouted to the ceiling, his balls spasming uncontrollably as his orgasm slammed out of him. He sprayed his seed against her belly and all down the hand that gripped him, coating her with his hot, pearly liquid once again. But his body wasn't finished after the first release. His climax kept going even after it normally would have stopped and he was dragged into a second, blinding release immediately without explanation. He banged his head against the tile as his eyes rolled back and Hermione's name was ripped from his throat with a great cry that he was sure could be heard on the other side of the castle.

Draco came back to sanity long minutes after, the white fuzz on the sides of his vision clearing up, his heart rate finally returning to normal. His girlfriend was pressing him against the wall and helping to hold him up, her face buried into his chest, her small hands resting on his shoulders. Weakly, he embraced her back and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. "That… amazing," was all he could say at first, mimicking her sentiment the first time she'd orgasmed for him. Once his breathing slowed and he regained brain-mouth coordination, he tried the compliment again. "I've never come twice in the row like that. Thank you, baby."

She laughed, leaned up and kissed him on the lips. "Thank _you_ for making me feel so good, too. And you're _quite_ welcome." She nuzzled her nose against his ear and playfully chuckled. "I think that was definitely an 'O' this time. A really big one."

He tiredly snorted, grinning, and patted her bum softly. "Saucy wench."

She snickered and placed a kiss over his heart, and right then and there, staring down into her lovely, flushed face, Draco decided that Hermione was _his_ now, and as such, he had absolutely no intention of letting her go come Christmas. There was absolutely _no fucking way_ was he _ever_ going to let another guy touch her like this, he decided possessively. And when it was the right time, he had every intention of telling her that, too.

* * *

**CHAPTER FOURTEEN: ****UNPREDICTABLE **

_**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland**_

_**Thursday, November 20, 1997 **_

As he dressed in his uniform on Thursday morning, Teddy frowned, realizing that he wouldn't see Granger at all today; their schedules were completely different. He probably wouldn't even catch her at the library tonight – one of her favorite times to study there – after what had happened between them. She said she'd forgiven him, but she'd been distant and cordial to him at dinner last night when they greeted each other in the hall entrance. Yep, he'd definitely fucked things up between them, and he still didn't understand what had come over him to have done it in the first place.

He sighed heavily, gathered his satchel and headed out the door, determined to just let things take their course. Eventually, she'd get over her reticence and they'd be back to being friends again.

On his way through the Slytherin Common Room, Daphne Greengrass casually met up with him and marched in step at his side. "Morning, Theo," she calmly greeted with a swing of her waist-length, blonde, straight hair, keeping her captivating dark jade-colored eyes evenly ahead, her features carefully guarded. He ignored her, heading up to the Great Hall, pretending for all the world that he could care less that she was there, walking beside him.

When he took his typical seat at Slytherin's table, his ex-girlfriend seated herself across from him, settling her long, alluring legs into a feminine knee-cross and reaching for a hot, raisin muffin and a butter pat. She then placed one gracefully slim hand into the center of the table and ordered up her morning tea with milk, and began to eat as if this were a common, everyday occurrence between them. Teddy sipped at his own tea, watching her over the rim of the cup, looking for a crack in her shell. He tired of the game quickly, however, when it was obvious that Daphne had no intention of telling him directly what she wanted from him. "What the hell are you doing?" he demanded in a low hiss, not liking her toying with him one bit.

Daphne looked at him with wide, uncomprehending eyes. "Whatever do you mean, Theo? I'm having breakfast, as I do every morning."

He carefully put his mug down before he smashed it against the table in growing ire. Daphne Greengrass always had a way of getting under his skin. That's why he'd spent the last two years ignoring her. "Not like every morning," he snarled. "Every morning you're down the other end of the table, flirting with whichever guy you shagged the night before."

Daphne stopped chewing and her face suddenly slammed down into all cold, severe angles. She swallowed her mouthful, took a sip of tea, daintily dabbed her mouth with the napkin in her lap and then replied to his vitriolic and hateful comment. "What makes you think I fuck them?"

Her use of an expletive made Teddy's eyebrows shoot up into his hairline. Daphne never swore; she considered herself above such common invectives. "Adding low-class profanity to your vocabulary finally are you?"

"Dodging my question?" she countered. "I asked you what made you think I had sexual relations with any of those boys?"

Teddy laughed, and he didn't care that it came out sinister and loud, or that several people nearby looked at him warily. He leaned forward and spoke in a deceptively mild tone, but his words were biting. "If you'll recall correctly, I caught you red-handed."

She looked hard at him then. "No, you saw Toby Lennox kissing me. I wasn't sleeping with him."

Teddy narrowed his eyes at her. "You were in your bed with him, for Slytherin's sake."

Daphne took another bite of her muffin and stared daggers at him. When she'd finished swallowing, she opposed him again, her tone raw and scornful. "I _never _wanted him. And I didn't ask him to come to my room that day."

Teddy shook his head and took a big gulp of tea. "Doesn't matter now, does it? If not Lennox, then there are at least a dozen more to choose from. Take your pick."

Daphne's normally controlled face was red, her eyes hateful. "Have you ever considered, Theo, that maybe you've been wrong about me all these years?" she asked him in a sharp, glacial tone, but he didn't rise to the bait. "No? Then clearly I'm wasting my time." With that, she grabbed her satchel and her muffin and stormed off back down to her regular side of the hall, as far away from him and out of sight as possible.

Fire stabbed through Teddy's heart, and the wound he'd thought closed so many years before was suddenly ripped open to freshly bleed again. His jaw clenched and unclenched as he tried to reign in his temper. What the hell was Greengrass on? The lines of broken-hearted guys she'd discarded like so much useless trash – of which he could be included - wound clear around the block. The pieces of this particular puzzle had no other conclusion: Daphne was little better than a toffing Haybag, and he'd been bloody lucky to have gotten out with some semblance of sanity intact years ago. That she'd deny it…

No, he wouldn't think about her anymore. His ex- had gotten all she was going to out of him. He'd focus what time and energies he had left on a girl worthy of his affections, even if he could never outwardly show them to her.

Speaking of…

He looked around. Granger and Drake were, as usual on Thursday mornings, absent from the room. He tried to tuck aside his disappointment and quiet the voice in the back of his head that taunted him about their whereabouts, and focused on eating. One thing Daphne had said to him in the past few days was true: he'd lost too much weight because of his illness. If he didn't take better care of himself, Granger was going to find out the truth. He dug an extra scoop of scrambled eggs onto his plate and ate, praying he wouldn't vomit today.

x~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~x

"Morning, love," Draco murmured sleepily, nuzzling Hermione's neck from behind, burying his nose in her hairline, his mind still half fuzzed with sleep, his erection fully awake however. He ran his lips over her bare shoulder and his fingers cupped a naked breast. Hermione groaned.

"Morning," she yawned, snuggling her pajama-covered bum against his boxers. When he tweaked her nipple she gasped and arched into him further. He groaned, recalling the way she'd reacted similarly last night after their shower. They'd fooled around until the early morning – maybe three or four a.m. – getting each other off with their hands several more times before finally falling into an exhausted slumber in each other's arms in her bed. He had to admit now that he'd missed sleeping next to her; he'd become spoiled from their clandestine meetings in the hospital ward.

Which reminded him: he needed to return Potter's Invisibility Cloak to the guy today sometime. He'd been so wrapped up in Quidditch, class work and Hermione that he hadn't had time to properly thank the git for his assistance.

Shite, Quidditch!

He had a meeting this morning with Urquhart, his Chaser and second most senior of the team members, to go over final strategies for Saturday's game! He sat up quickly, checking Hermione's Sandkeeper on the bedside stand. It was a little after nine. He had two hours before he had to go meet Adam. He let out a sigh of relief.

"What's wrong?" his girlfriend asked, sitting up with him. She wasn't wearing a top and had apparently forgotten that little fact.

As soon as Draco saw her perky, luscious tits – pink nipples reacting instantly to the cooler temperature of the room – he smirked wickedly, then pounced on her, pinning her to the bed underneath him. He ravaged her mouth first, and then worked his way down her collar to her breasts. "Meeting at eleven for Quidditch," he informed her in between kisses.

"Oh," she exclaimed as he took a nipple in between his teeth and tugged on it. "I see." She gasped as he lathed the small bud. "Then… shouldn't you go… get ready?"

He shook his head, his platinum bangs brushing across her smooth flesh, causing goosebumps to appear across her flesh. "We've got time, baby," he assured her and then proceeded to make her cry out in pleasure once more.

It was only later, as he'd finished up his meeting and was walking to meet Hermione for lunch that Draco realized he'd called her 'love' that morning, and that she hadn't reacted negatively to the endearment.

x~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~x

Hermione's blissfully happy mood carried over into lunchtime, when she met up with Draco again for lunch. They took a seat at Gryffindor's table together across from Harry and Ginny. Neville and Hannah Abbot (who were going on a month together now), Seamus and Luna (who'd started dating just a week ago), and Ron (Lavender was, thankfully, lunching with Parvati and her sister, Padma, further down the table) joined them, sitting all around closely. When Teddy walked into the room, Hermione was surprised to hear Harry call out to him and wave him over. Her tall, dark friend seemed equally as baffled, but a small smile played on his lips as he took a seat across from she and Draco, on Harry's open side. As she watched the gang exchange witty banter as they consumed mini spinach and cheese pies, Hermione couldn't help but feel a little pride at what she was seeing; this was true inter-house unity right here! Sure, the standard rivalry still existed (there was some particularly playful teasing about Slytherin's chances in the big game this Saturday spearheaded by Ginny, but Draco gave back as good as he got and the two grinned at each other like circling cats the whole time), but the fact that all of them were enjoying each other's company, letting the conversation flow naturally, touched Hermione in a way she hadn't expected.

"What's wrong, baby?" Draco asked concernedly, taking her hands in his.

Hermione shook her head. "Nothing's wrong." She wiped the tears that had fallen down her cheeks away with the back of her hand and smiled tremblingly. "I'm just happy."

Diagonal across the table, Ron sighed. "Ignore her, Malfoy. It's probably just women's hormones again or something. She always gets weepy mid-way through the month."

Hermione was spared having to slap Ron upside the head, because Ginny did it for her quite impressively. "Insensitive git," she growled.

Harry leaned over to look around his girlfriend at his best buddy. "It might be better if you let the rest of us do the talking for the remainder of the day, mate. That way, you'll at least keep your pants."

Everyone laughed and Ron looked sheepish, but grinned. He knew he'd said something outrageous, but it was his way to clear up uncomfortable emotional moments with inappropriate humor. Hermione had learned that long ago. "I just meant that I'm excited to see that we've got all four houses represented right here, right now, and we're all getting along so swell," she clarified. "Isn't that amazing? Who'd have ever thought this could be possible?"

The group all looked at each other as if just realizing Hermione's truth. Everyone's face seemed contemplative and a bit surprised. "Well, it's a start," Harry, as usual, conveyed the one sentiment on everyone's mind most appropriately with the least amount of words possible. There was a chorus of "hear-hear" and nods as everyone sipped at their drinks or went back to eating.

Suddenly, Draco looked across the table. "That reminds me: Potter, I've got something of yours," he stated and the two shared a knowing look. Obviously, they were referring to the infamous Invisibility Cloak.

"Later," Harry nonchalantly replied, trying to make it seem like they were referencing a text book or something equally as unimportant. Draco nodded in understanding, but Ron and Ginny traded a questioning look with Hermione who feigned ignorance with a shrug. It wasn't her secret to tell. Besides, it was fun keeping inconsequential, harmless things from them on occasion.

"Oh, Theodore, you might not want to eat that!" Luna chimed in unexpectedly from next to Draco, pointing at the yellow-peeled fruit he'd reached for instead of the citrus pudding. Teddy gave her a questioning glance and everyone stopped what they were doing to find out exactly what it was that Luna (who was always good for a laugh or groan) was on about. "Bananas are known to attract Wrackspurts," she confided with an authoritative nod.

Teddy blinked, obviously confused. "What's a…?" he began, but everyone cut him off pretty much simultaneously with hand motions telling him to forget about asking, including Seamus, who was trying not to laugh and failed miserably (he turned and gave his girl a smooch on the cheek and just shook his head at her adorable craziness). Wisely and with great stealth, Teddy shut his mouth and put the banana back, reaching for the orange-grapefruit dessert instead.

X~~~~~~~~~~~~~~X

By one o'clock, it was time for all of them to take off for their afternoon classes. Hermione and Draco left hand-in-hand for their D.A.D.A. Lecture-Lab, hurrying so as not to be late (Snape was still an unforgiving teacher, regardless of his loyalty to those who'd once belonged to the Order). They spent the first half of the class talking about the theories around Legilimency (a core requirement for their N.E.W.T. tests at the end of May) and how/why the magic works, then the second half of the three hours was spent on practical application. Today's first attempt was supposedly simple: projecting an image and having your partner pick up the visual from half a meter away.

Hermione found it difficult to concentrate, as the 'internal voices' of fellow students around her occasionally entered her mind when she opened up and dropped her mental defenses, however. Feeling rather emotionally vulnerable today, she tried very hard to keep her own thoughts from being broadcast similarly, grasping at random ideas to help her focus.

"I believe I was thinking of a purple flower," Draco drawled at her, amused. "But you're reciting children's stories. Where are those passages from exactly?"

Hermione blushed, feeling foolish for not having better control of her thoughts. "_Tales of Beedle The Bard_," she admitted. "Professor Dumbledore gave me his copy last year and I've already translated the first four pages. It's written in medieval ciphers, so I'm working on publishing the English-language version for my final thesis in Ancient Runes."

Her boyfriend raised one perfectly arched, golden eyebrow at her in wonder. "You're publishing a book as your graduation requirement for one of your classes?"

She blinked impassively. "It's not really an original story or anything. I'm just translating it. Whizz Hard Books has agreed to pick up the contract once it's completed, though. I'm hoping it'll be required reading for D.A.D.A. First Years someday."

Draco's lips roguishly twitched. "Okay, but why are you thinking about that instead of concentrating on what's in my head?"

"Because it's hard to shut down my own thoughts," she admitted. "I'm a little… distracted… today."

He leaned forward, concerned. "I'll ask again: are you all right, baby? Is there something bothering you?"

She bit her lip and fought off tears, not quite sure why she was feeling so weirdly emotional today. Maybe Ron had been right; it _was_ about the time for her menses to come again. She sighed, unsure how to say something like that to Draco, however, and looked down at his hands, feeling it might be a safe bet to not look him in the eye while she attempted to regain some control of herself. No such luck, as she suddenly remembered what those fingers of his were doing to her in the shower just the night before. Her face exploded in heat at the same moment her heart started pounding madly, and suddenly, Draco grabbed her hand firmly. "Block your mind. You're telegraphing images." There was a hiss of surprise from behind them, followed by a low, meaningful snicker, and Draco threw a nasty look over his shoulder. "Mind your own, Zabini." He turned back to her, gritting his teeth. "Better control, please, Granger. Concentrate."

"Sorry!" she squeaked, mortified. She started thinking about her book again and immediately she calmed. Draco let her go and leaned back in his chair. "Good. Now, try to read my mind," he prompted.

No matter how hard she tried, though, Hermione was unable to fully concentrate on another subject without leaving her own thoughts vulnerable and open. By the end of the lesson, she was frustrated and near tears again. Not being able to do something simply galled her. "You're definitely on your way to being a powerful Occlumens, but we're going to have to work on your Legilimency, baby," Draco soothed her, helping her gather her things up before he had to rush off to his N.E.W.T. Prep class. "Don't worry. It took me time to master it, too. I'll help you through it."

"Who taught you?" she hesitantly asked. She knew Bellatrix had instructed him in Occlumency when he'd first received the Dark Mark, but Hermione hadn't known that he'd learned its opposite, too.

He shrugged. "Snape did when I first joined the Order."

A thought occurred to Hermione then. "Is that how you found out about the last two Horcruxes? I've always wondered."

Draco nodded. "Aunt Bella's mind was a little unhinged there at the end. It made it easy to get into her memories. She knew most of Voldemort's secrets."

They were walking hand in hand through the corridors now, he carrying her bag as usual. Her previous mood vanished in the light of speculative curiosity. "Why would the Dark Lord tell her anything that important, though?" she asked, considering what she knew of the Death Eater camp.

"Why wouldn't he? Aside from being his most fervent supporter, she was also his mistress," Draco explained nonchalantly. "Had been since the early 70's, when she became one of his first Death Eaters."

Hermione stopped cold in the middle of the hallway, completely traumatized by the idea. "You mean, that they… they…?" Her scrunched her face up in disgust, not even able to finish the sentence. "Ugh, that… that's just… I think I may be sick just thinking about it."

Draco snorted, his features twisted up in revulsion as well as he tugged her to continue walking. "You never sifted through her memories. Seeing their fuck sessions… _THAT_ was traumatizing. They were into all sorts of kinky and cruel shite that I wouldn't dare touch. I begged Dumbledore to pull the memories from me and scrub my head clean, but he refused to _Obliviate_ me, in case I ever needed to testify. The old coot said a personal, emotional statement in front of the Wizengamot was better than a Pensieve and it was guaranteed to cinch any case."

"And he still hasn't erased those memories from you, even though the trial's been done for months?" she asked, appalled. Draco shook his head in sickened resignation. "Merlin! Ewww! I feel like… like I should apologize or something," she sympathized.

When they got to the door of his classroom, he turned to her with a naughty smirk on his handsome face, his arms reaching around her waist and pulling her in close. "If you feel that badly about it, you could always try to help me forget, I suppose."

Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him an amused grin. "I guess I'll just have to replace those awful thoughts with good memories of us, hmmm?" They kissed passionately, but pulled away once Professor Sprout, who was teaching the Herbology section of the N.E.W.T. Prep Lecture, passed by and made a "hum-hum" cough in the back of her throat.

As Draco reluctantly let her go, he whispered in her ear a parting shot. "Like my hands all over your soapy breasts… mmmmm… Thanks for _that _memory earlier."

Hermione blushed as he hurried into the room and took a seat and the door shut after him. She leaned against the stone wall for a moment and stared out the set of tall, thin windows that lined the hallway, trying to calm her racing mind. It occurred to her that she'd have to be very careful and study up on her own to try to block her thoughts when probing another person's mind, otherwise Draco would found out about her true feelings for him.

Free for the rest of the afternoon and evening, she made her way down to the library to check out books on perfecting one's Legilimency techniques.


	8. Chapter 15

**CHAPTER FIFTEEN: THE BIG GAME**

_**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland**_

_**Friday, November 21, 1997 – Saturday morning/afternoon, November 22, 1997 **_

Friday was a flurry of activity for Draco.

First, he met up with his lady love for breakfast. They sat with the Slytherins, and he was surprised to see Blaise and Pansy talking to Hermione rather cordially and openly about the upcoming Yule Ball details, specifically the musical entertainment and food (Blaise had apparently met some sort of financial goal and could now hire the band of their choice, and Pansy excitedly conveyed that she'd managed to convince some caterer into freely supplying hors d'oeuvres for the entire event, and to his utter amazement, he actually caught both of his friends blushing under his girlfriend's glowing praise and sincere smiles). Teddy joined them half way through the meal, and Draco noticed that he wasn't looking so hot that morning. Another restless night with interrupted sleep? He seemed to be having a lot of those lately. He made a mental note to talk to him about it when they could find a moment alone. He knew Teddy was an intensely private person and he didn't like discussing his problems in the middle of a public venue.

Interestingly enough, when Daphne Greengrass passed behind Draco and Hermione on her way out of the room, Draco caught Teddy's eyes tracking his ex-.

He and Granger and Teddy headed off to Advanced Potions Lecture next, where they spent most of the time passing goofy notes back and forth, since this was a review lecture for the test coming up next Monday in Lab, and all three of them felt already well prepared.

After, they had a free period of an hour, and Draco had to break the news to Hermione that, unfortunately, he wouldn't be in Transfiguration Lab this afternoon because of a final Quidditch practice, and that he couldn't spend tonight with her either, despite it being their normal appointment time. He wanted to get to sleep early, because tomorrow morning was the big game and he wanted to be up fresh and early for it. That meant he wouldn't see her again until after the match tomorrow. She nodded in understanding, but he could feel her disappointment. To make up for it, he excused them from Teddy, dragged her up to the Entrance Hall Tower into a darkened alcove and proceeded to snog her senseless against the wall. Their kissing, much to his unexpected surprise, turned into much more very quickly.

With a silencing charm cast over their location and a quick glance around to make sure no one was about, he ran his hands under her blouse and up over her bra, which he yanked down. He then proceeded to tweak her nipples, pinching and rolling them. She gasped her pleasure, even as her own hands moved to his pants. "Forget the belt. Just unzip me and take me out," he instructed against her lips as his right hand made for her skirt at the same time.

When she had him out and free, he grabbed her hand and spit in the palm, then pressed it around his cock. She knew exactly what to do then, so he gave her free reign as his fingers slipped her knickers to the side and trailed up and down her already wet lips. He leaned into her ear. "You have the softest pussy, Granger," he whispered, then tongued her ear. "I can't wait to taste it."

Her fingers tightened around his shaft and began pumping in earnest and his hips thrust forward on each down stroke, even as his finger carefully dipped inside her once more. He pressed the top of his palm against her clit and rubbed at the same time. "Oh, fuck, baby… We're coming back here after your first time and I'm _going_ to have you right in this spot, against this wall."

She bit his neck above his collar and mewled against his skin, and he felt her right leg skim its way up to wrap around his thigh. The angle allowed him to penetrate her further with his finger if he wanted. "Go deeper," she begged, but he shook his head.

"I don't want to break you this way," he grit between clenched teeth as his own orgasm approached. "I want it to be my cock that takes your cherry." He rested his forehead against her temple as he moaned when she swiped her thumb across his tip. He could feel himself dripping onto her hand.

"When, Draco?" she gasped as he worked her over with his fingers. "I want you inside of me _so much_. Please let me give myself to you."

His heart skipped a beat and he bit his bottom lip to keep himself from blurting out that he loved her on the spot.

He thought about their predicament and realized he needed to stop playing and just commit to giving it to her soon; the desire to pound away inside her was getting to be too difficult for him to shove aside any longer, and her frustration was as evident as his in that respect. He still had so much he wanted them to experience together, to leave intact some small amount of her innocence they could share before she lost hers irrevocably, but, Merlin, he was _so bloody ready_.

He kissed her hungrily, shoving his hips against her hand hard at the same time as tickling her g-spot inside her canal with the tip of his finger. "A few more lessons, baby. Not long."

She gasped into his mouth then kissed him back passionately. "You promise?" she begged breathlessly, her naughty hand stroking him harder as she bit his bottom lip.

"_Definitely_." He ground out in between a moan, biting her back.

She nodded and rewarded his agreement by stroking her tongue against his in time to her hand motions. His balls felt like they were on fire. He felt every fiber of his being tense up, ready to spill over. "Hurry up and come, Hermione," he growled against her lips. "I can't hold back much longer."

As if his words freed her, she came for him a second or two later, muffling her cries against his shoulder, her leg around him tensing up and pulling his pelvis flush against her abdomen. He gripped her stilling hand on his cock and shoved it over himself several more times, and then he crashed headlong into bliss, murmuring her name over and over against her neck like a prayer. His hips jerked several more times as the come continued to spurt out of him onto the front of her shirt and down her skirt. He held her to him as tightly as he could, needing to be close to her.

They were quiet in the afterglow, letting their heart rates decelerate slowly and their breathing catch up to normal pace once more. In the safety of his mind, he thought the things to her that he couldn't say aloud.

Hermione pulled back from him. Her face said loud and clear that she was totally sated; he'd done his job well. She reached up and touched his cheek gently with her free hand. "I've got a surprise for you tomorrow," she told him sincerely, her leg dropping off his hip back to the floor. "I think you're going to like it."

He grinned playfully. "Care to give it to me today instead?"

She shook her head slowly. "No, you have to wait until tomorrow. It'll be worth it, though."

Whatever it was, she wanted him to have it. And it was important to her, he could tell. "The not-knowing is going to drive me spare, though. You'll be making me suffer between now and then, you evil witch."

His girlfriend kissed him quickly, a grin on her pretty, flushed face. "You'll live," she reassured him.

They stared at each other then, their teasing grins suddenly fading into warmhearted smiles, and this moment reminded Draco so much of their first night in Hermione's room together, when they'd gazed across the width of mere centimeters into each other's eyes in wonder at what they were doing. This time, however, he had no doubts about being with her. He finally had accepted fully that he loved Hermione Granger – talk about a complete 180 degree turn of his affections since this last summer! He still found himself amazed and confounded - and he wanted her more than anything he'd ever wanted in his entire life.

He reached up with his free hand and feathered her cheek, then he smirked devilishly and moving the fingers still buried between her legs, he gave a final stroke over her clit in a quick zipping motion. Just as she gasped and her hips moved forward for more, he removed his hand, readjusting her knickers. She pouted and let his now flaccid member go. He kissed the tip of her nose with a wicked chuckle, stepped back and adjusted his clothes. She did the same, and he _Scourgify_'d the mess he'd made all over them both and the floor with his wand. Then, he smoothed her hair back to where it belonged, tucking a stray curl behind her ear, while she brushed his bangs back, and with a final glance around, they took their satchels over their shoulders, and walked hand-in-hand down to the Entrance Hall first level where they parted with a sweet, tender pull of lips.

Draco whistled tiredly, but happily as he went off into the dining hall to meet up with Teddy, while his girlfriend went off to the library to meet up with the Prefects for their weekly meeting.

x~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~x

On Friday afternoon, Teddy was having trouble concentrating during Transfiguration Lab. Daphne was sitting near him again and occasionally, he would look up to find her staring at him out of the corner of her eye. He was starting to become annoyed with her rather obvious ploys to get his attention, and wondered again what in the hell she was up to and what exactly she wanted from him. He tried to ignore her as he worked on conjuring a bouquet of flowers non-verbally, but because of the distraction Daphne presented, he was having problems getting the magic to work right. So far, all he'd managed to conjure were some weeds.

"_Orchideous_," he growled in annoyance and the weeds became flowers at once.

"Mr. Nott, I don't think I need to remind you that this lesson is a silent one," Professor McGonagall pointed out sharply, and with a wave of her wand in his direction, his bouquet disappeared entirely. She turned back to monitoring the rest of the class with a disapproving look on her old, craggy face.

Teddy sighed and put his wand down, laying his eyes against the palms of his hands on the table. He was exhausted. He hadn't slept much last night, or the night before that. He'd been having night terrors about how he'd killed his father and his own impending death, and the lack of rest was starting to affect him. If only he could sleep… He was just so bloody tired…

Professor McGonagall's hand on his shoulder jerked him awake. He looked around guiltily, noticing that many in the class were peeking at him in surprise. How long had he been asleep? "Mr. Nott, may I speak to you outside, please?"

Wearily, he nodded and followed his Transfiguration Professor into the hallway. She drew him in close and spoke quietly. "Mr. Nott, I am concerned. You have always been an exemplary student, but of late, I have noticed a drop in the level of your participation and performance, not to mention the quality of your assigned homework. And you have never been known to sleep in the middle of classes, either. Now, something is obviously bothering you…"

He shook his head, wanting to cut her off before she put the question of why to him bluntly and forced him to lie bald-faced to her, something he didn't want to do. "I'm sorry, Professor. I'm just a little down right now, is all. I promise I'll do better."

Minerva McGonagall looked at him seriously behind her square-shaped spectacles, her pointy hat cocking crazily to one side as she stared up at his much greater height. In her gaze, he thought he saw sympathy. "Yes, well, Mr. Nott, in future, should you decide you wish to nap on one of the school desks, perhaps you would be so good as to make sure they are located _in someone else's classroom_." She gave him a rare smile then.

He returned it. "Yes, m'am."

After that, he followed her back into the classroom and worked on his conjuration, but try as he might, he still continued to have a difficult time of it. It was hard to concentrate, after all, when Daphne's' pretty, emerald-colored eyes were burning holes in the back of his head.

x~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~x

Saturday morning, Hermione dressed in the special outfit for Draco that she'd planned to surprise him with today. She donned it, looked at herself in her mirror and decided that her boyfriend would most certainly like it. Then, she threw on her long, woolen winter coat, a scarf and her gloves (she left the hat off intentionally, as she had tied green, silver and black ribbons in her puppy tails and wanted Draco to see her support for him), and tucking her wand into an inside pocket of the coat, she made her way out towards the Quidditch pitch.

She waited outside the locker rooms alone, having intentionally arrived extra early just so she could catch Draco. He was talking with Adam Urquhart, his game face on, as he approached. Making sure her legs were safely hidden behind the coat (which she'd put a warming charm on as well, given how little she was wearing), she waited for him to notice her.

"Hey, baby," he greeted her with a big smile, leaving Adam with the 'see ya' party nod and approaching her. "Come to give your man a kiss for good luck, then?"

She looked around his big body to make sure no one else was coming up on them, and then she opened her coat slowly with a seductively impish grin.

Draco dropped his broom and stared, open mouthed.

This had been the exact reaction she'd been hoping for. Looking into Draco's lust filled gaze, for the first time in her life, Hermione Granger felt like a true sex kitten. The most sought-after boy in school _wanted_ her, absolutely and unequivocally. That knowledge empowered her, thrilled her to her very core, and made her blood pound through her veins. Good, so maybe now he'd bed her and stop pussyfooting around, she thought wryly. She could learn anything else he had to teach her _after_ their first time together. And besides, being able to play and to have sex afterwards… that would just make it all the better.

Quickly, while he was still in a state of dazed enchantment, she alluringly walked towards him and crushed her barely-clothed body against his, wrapping her arms about his neck. On tiptoe, she pressed her mouth towards his ear and breathed into it hotly. His long platinum bangs tickled her lips. "I want to make you another deal today, Draco: If you win this match, I'll let you have _anything_ you want tonight. I'll let you do _anything_ you want to me. And I _promise_ not to regret a single moment."

She could feel his heart pounding as she pressed her lips to his pulse, and then worked her way to his lips with sultry, nipping kisses. When she pulled back, he looked down at her with such dark hunger that it made her shiver.

"Anything I want… with no regrets?" he asked in that deceptively mild, low voice that said he was all kinds of wicked business.

Hermione nodded. "But you have to catch the Snitch first."

His right hand smoothed its way up over her arm and shoulder, and then he fisted her hair and pulled her neck back slowly, dropping his head so that his mouth hovered right over hers. His steel grey eyes were locked onto her with an intensity she hadn't seen in them since that morning he'd come up behind her in the mirror in her room. "Granger," he buzzed her lips. "If you give me this chance, I'm going to make you do things for my pleasure tonight. _Really. Naughty. Things._"

"Like…?" she curiously prompted him, seriously turned-on by the thought of him dominating her. Her fingers softly rubbed the hair on the back of his neck, just above his collar as she ground her hips against his.

He narrowed his eyes. "Like… I'm going to start by having you strip this cute little outfit off for me while I watch. I want to see you _completely_ naked, Hermione. I'm tired of fantasizing. I want to _see_." He grabbed the fingers on her right hand from around his neck with his left and brought it to the front of that tiny skirt she was wearing. "Then I'm going to eat your pussy out while I finger fuck you. I want to feel you coming against my hand while I lap up your sweet juices with my tongue." He grabbed her wrist a little tighter, and drew it onto his erection, which was hard under the fabric of his Quidditch uniform. "And after, you're getting on your knees and sucking _this_ cock, Granger. I want your lips wrapped around me as I teach you to pleasure me with your mouth and as I come down your throat." He smirked diabolically and moved her arm so that it was behind her back, under the coat, resting against the tiny slip of fabric she wore over her bum. "And I'll spank you _here_ if you don't do _exactly_ as I wish." He assessed her face carefully. "Would you _really _let me do all of that to you tonight, baby?"

"Yes," she whispered with no hesitation, feeling her heart fluttering wildly like a trapped butterfly behind her chest. Her thighs were damp and slippery with her juices from just his words alone, and she suddenly couldn't wait for them to actually act this descriptive foreplay out for real. She twisted her wrist in his grip and turned the tables on him, grabbing his hand and guiding him under her skirt this time and towards her wet lower lips. She pressed their combined fingers under her skimpy French knickers. "_Absolutely_, yes."

Draco stared at her evenly for a solid minute, gauging her sincerity, and finally he nodded, and the accord was made between them. He sealed it with a sweet kiss, which belied the hunger she read in his gaze. "Be ready for me tonight," he growled, rubbing over her clit with a few passes of his fingertips, and then he released her gently, _Accio_'d his broom to his hand non-verbally and walked past her into the locker room.

x~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~x

That evening, in an extra special edition of the internal school newsletter, _**The Hogwarts Special Express**_ _**(not to be confused with the train of the same name)**_, the following article appeared on the front two-page spread:

_**SLYTHERIN BRINGS HOME THE GOLD (SNITCH, THAT IS)**_

**By: Colin Creevey**

**November 22, 1997 – Volume 1, Issue #7**

**The highly anticipated Slytherin versus Ravenclaw Quidditch match this rainy November morning began at eleven o'clock on the dot. Twenty-three minutes later, with plenty of time left over for catching weekend brunch if you missed the excellent pancakes served at breakfast, Slytherin's Silver Serpent's Seeker (try saying that one three times fast!) had guaranteed the victory for his House in a move that would forever be known as The Reversible Crazy Malfoy™ (term coined by Miss Luna Lovegood, the game's co-anchor, and readily seconded by Adrian Pucey, the game announcer). **

**This reporter was lucky to conduct an impromptu, exclusive interview with the player of the day following the win, Seeker-Captain Draco Malfoy, and as a result, we can now accurately describe the intricacies involved in successfully pulling off a brilliant, if not somewhat suicidal winning play for our loyal readers.**

**Basically, The Reversible Crazy Malfoy™ consists of four daring moves: **

**First, the Seeker spies the Snitch somewhere below him and flies past it nonchalantly so as not alert the opposing team's Seeker – or the Snitch itself (because, as we all know, this teensy, round ball of endless frustration and amusement is magically charmed to sense magical auras homing in on it and to whizz away as fast as its little, buggering wings can carry it) - as to its discovered location.**

**Second, at an appropriate moment, the Seeker turns his broom upside down while flying horizontally backwards at extremely high velocity so that he can position himself back on top of the location where the Snitch is temporarily hovering. This serves the dual purpose of setting the Seeker up to snatch the Snitch quickly, while at the same time completely confusing the opposing team, who becomes bewildered into inactivity by so astounding a ploy (after all, who wants to hit a Bludger at an upside down, backwards flying man who's hanging like a monkey from his broom? You'd be a social pariah for the rest of your life if you actually hit him, known forever as the prat who abuses the mentally disturbed). As a result of this bold, yet disconcerting move, the Seeker can now freely get ready to capture the Snitch.**

**Third, when the timing is perfectly right (that is, there are no Bludgers nearby and the Snitch is oblivious to being stalked), the Seeker then promptly and unexpectedly changes course, rolling his broom into a vertical fast dive instead, and grabs the unsuspecting Snitch out of the air before anyone in the stadium can utter a "Sim, Sim!" in surprise.**

**Finally, before crashing into the earth, the Seeker then pulls his broom back into a horizontal position, this time right-side up, and eventually he glides to a stop in the middle of the field, triumphant and not half the nutter everyone assumed him to be once they behold what is in his hand.**

**The entire play is designed to take less than five seconds when performed competently (and when not, it is assumed by this reporter that there would be long-term hospital care in the Seeker's future, with lots of boxes of Muggle crayons and coloring books in permanent demand). **

**After the win was obviously secured in today's game, this reporter observed (along with everyone else in the stadium) that Captain Malfoy lazily rode his broom into the center of the field, his golden prize firmly grasped in his left hand and stretched into the air for all to see. He then looked up into the stands, focusing on the Gryffindor section in particular, and flashed a challenging, confident smirk (a move that we have all come to jokingly refer to here at Hogwarts over the years as 'he's giving you the patented Malfoy Charm™ again, dearies'), and the crowd roared its approval of his daring, lunatic game-winning style. **

**In a show of good sportsmanship, Ravenclaw's Captain-Beater, Duncan Inglebee, hovered down to Captain Malfoy's position when the game results were officially called and extended a hand, with a "Good game - wicked move, mate!" comment. The two Captains shook with much friendly banter, and then the Slytherin and Ravenclaw teams together shared a hearty toast to each other with bottles of Butterbeer (donated so graciously in advance by Madam Rosmerta of The Three Broomsticks, Hogsmeade Village), before heading into their respective locker rooms for post-game debriefing.**

**Next weekend's game features Gryffindor's Golden Lions, led by Captain-Seeker Harry Potter, versus Hufflepuff's Black Badgers, led by Captain-Keeper Herbert Fleet. Whichever team wins that match-up will go on to play against the Slytherin Silver Serpents in next May's Quidditch House Cup final. The other team will face off against Ravenclaw's Screaming Eagles in next April's semi-final to determine third and fourth place awards respectively.**

x~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~x

The Slytherin Common Room was in full swing party mode that afternoon as the Serpents celebrated their Quidditch victory. Next weekend's match between the other two houses seemed a shoo-in as to whom would win, and that meant Draco would be facing off with Potter for their final time.

It was five-thirty in the evening before Draco could escape the festivities and make his way towards the kitchens for a quiet bite to eat. He didn't feel like going up to the dining hall, as he was sure he'd be accosted by people congratulating him and asking him questions which he'd spent all afternoon already answering for others. So, instead, he asked a house elf to throw him together a plate and he sat on a stool off to the side as the kitchen staff moved their tiny, long-eared selves about, to and fro, working on dessert.

When he finished eating and making arrangements with Binky (Hermione's favorite little friend down here) for some "late night sweets" to be apparated up to her room in three hours, it was close to six o'clock. He sent his Patronus ahead to Hermione to let her know he wanted to see her at eight o'clock (he didn't say why, but they both knew the reason, and he didn't say where, because it was obvious), and headed back towards his dorms to take a shower and get changed into more suitable attire for his date.

His step quickened as he considered what they were going to be doing tonight. And he knew _exactly_ how he wanted to go about it all, too. He just needed to collect some things from his trunk before leaving… This was going to be a night Hermione would never forget!

x~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~x

After the match, Hermione had returned to her room to change into more appropriate clothing – a pair of Muggle dark jeans and a dark blue knit sweater (a gift from Ron's mother two years previously). She spent the afternoon finishing up reading a book on Legilimency techniques that she'd checked out of the library to help her from accidentally projecting her thoughts, feeling and memories into the air during moments of stress. She was still have problems with the concepts, which, like her failure to be expert at flying on a broom, bothered her to no end. Hermione just wasn't comfortable drilling around in other people's heads, knowing their private, most intimate secrets and feelings. She agreed heartily with that old Muggle proverb about doing unto others, as you'd have them do unto you, and since the idea of someone picking through her head bothered her so much… well, it made perfect, logical, rational sense as to why this particular magical art was difficult for her to master.

That said she knew she needed to be better at Legilimency. Her thoughts around Draco were too flustered, and he really had a way of making her lose herself entirely just by the simplest of touches. If she didn't want to accidentally let him in on her little secret affections, she needed to discipline her mind better.

As she finished up the last chapter, and the castle bell run out the five o'clock hour, she knew that she'd need to practice her Legilimency on someone she trusted implicitly not to judge her or to spill any secrets that were accidentally revealed. She wished it could be Draco, but since he was the one she was mostly hiding her true feelings from at the moment, only one other name popped immediately to mind: Harry.

Grabbing her wand and locking up her room to head down to dinner, she decided to ask him then, when there was an opportune moment for them to speak quietly alone.

x~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~x

It was five-thirty five, she absently noted by checking the large Sandkeeper on the wall above the giant entry doors to the room. She leaned over towards Harry's ear to her left. "Can I speak with you in private after?" she requested under her breath.

Harry looked at her out of the corner of his eye and nodded, then went back to finishing his dessert. "Five minutes?"

She nodded and waited patiently, feeling her stomach flip-flopping around. When it was time, Harry kissed Ginny goodbye, promised to catch Ron later for their game of Wizard's Chess back in Gryffindor Tower, and he and Hermione made their way out into the hall. She wasn't sure where she was leading them, exactly, until they got to the library and took seats at her favorite table.

"What's all this about, then?" he asked with a puzzled frown.

Hermione looked down at her hands, twirling her wand nervously. Now that it had come to it, she was feeling slightly trepidacious. She bit her lip in anxiety. Harry's warm hand over hers stopped her fiddling. "You're not fighting with Malfoy again are you?" he asked, concerned. "I didn't see you with him today after the match or at dinner, so that's why I ask."

She shook her head. "Harry, I need a favor. A big one." She looked up and Harry simply nodded automatically. His loyalty was such that she knew he would grant her request no matter what it was, so long as it didn't injure her person or others. "I need your help to practice Legilimency."

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Is that all? Sure. But that hardly seems a big favor."

She gave him a twisted, sad smirk. "It is to me. I can't seem to get the hang of it, and I want to be able to protect myself from being so open."

Harry looked at her carefully. "That's Occlumency, 'Mione. Not Legilimency."

She shook her head again. "Not the way my brain works. I seem to be combining them, but I don't know how. For some reason… when I try to read others, I leave my own thoughts completely open to them at the same time. I can't seem to shut it down until I concentrate internally on something. But then, I'm unable to read the other person if I do that."

Adjusting his glasses on his nose, Harry considered her problem. "I think it's because you don't compartmentalize your feelings, 'Mione. You take full responsibility for your decisions and you feel the ramifications deeply. I think that's why the Alihotsy-Sneezewort combo was so terrible for you– because it made you doubt your own heart. Legilimency requires you to put the choice aside to invade another person's mind, to disregard their feelings on it and to invade them anyway. It's not in you to do that to another person."

Hermione considered her friend's evaluation. It was true, all of it, just as she'd earlier debated in her own head. "So… what can I do? I have to master Legilimency for the N.E.W.T.s, and I need to be able to do it without giving everything about myself away.

Harry looked at her for a good minute in silence. "This is about Malfoy, isn't it? How you feel about him, I mean."

Fire jumped up her face and Hermione looked at her best friend with eyes wide open. "How… I feel about him?"

Harry tilted his head to the side and stared at her with his piercing green eyes, his mouth turned up at the corners in amusement. "Are you still going to deny it?" He huffed and shook his head. "You're too stubborn for your own good sometimes, you know that? At least now I know why you came to me for help instead of to your own boyfriend."

Hoo-boy, here came the hard part. "Harry… Draco's not really… I mean, we've never formalized anything… out loud. At least, he hasn't let me know he wants any commitment from me."

Harry's eyebrows shot down violently. "What do you mean?"

She struggled over the right way to say this, feeling her face explode in crimson. "We… it started out as… a request… from me. I wanted Draco to… teach me… how to be an adult. You know. Sex stuff." She shook her head and put her hand up to her temple, trying to explain so he wouldn't get the wrong idea. "I didn't even know how to kiss, Harry. I'm eighteen years old and _Neville_ knows more than I do at this point about boy-girl things!" She sighed in disgust with her lack of refinement. "I picked Draco because… well, I was really attracted to him. And he admitted he wanted me that way, too. It seemed a logical, good decision at the time. He's very experienced and… he's treated me so well, with respect and consideration. I think he even likes me." She bit her lip and felt tears unexpectedly bloom in her eyes. "But it's become complicated since we started. And I… I've done the unthinkable." She looked up at her best friend, her heart torn up by the truth again. "I fell for him, Harry. I fell in love with Malfoy! But… I don't think he feels the same way for me. And… we agreed in the beginning that… that we would end it by Christmas." She stared shaking now, all her worries coming back to the forefront. "In a little over thirty days, it's going to end, and… I'll be an adult finally, but… oh, Merlin, Harry, he's going to break my heart when he walks away!" She closed her eyes, ashamed to look at the judgment that was sure to be plastered on her friend's face, and clasped a closed fist to her mouth to try to stifle her sobs. She was so stupid, wasn't she?

"No, you're not," Harry commented, and she looked up shocked. He gave her a small smirk. "You spoke in my head just then. I didn't read you on purpose, I swear."

Hermione was horrified. "You see? This is why I need your help. If he finds out how I feel about him… he'll break it off with me. And I don't want him to. I… I like what we're doing. Even if it's… unconventional. Even if you think I'm immoral for doing this, I don't care. I only want to be with him for however long I can."

Harry breathed a very heavy sigh and adjusted his glasses again. "'Mione, you know I would never presume to tell you what to do. That's Ron's job." He snuffed in amusement and she couldn't help but agree. "But in this case, you should just tell Malfoy and see what happens. I think you'll be surprised to find out that your feelings aren't one-sided."

Everything in the world suddenly narrowed down acutely to the sound of her own heart pumping strongly in her chest.

_Ba-bump. Ba-bump. Ba-bump._

What a strange noise that is, she idly thought. Steady, powerful, honest, lulling… Just like love. How odd.

"'Mione?"

Sanity returned in a rush and she blinked her way back to the here and now. "What… what makes you say that?"

Harry just looked at her, but in her head, she heard his voice. _"Just as I know you're not stupid, I know this."_ He stood and looked down at her, the light of the candles in the chandelier overhead reflecting off his lenses. "If you still need my help with Legilimency or Occlumency, I'll do what I can for you. Just let me know." With that, he walked off, leaving Hermione to the privacy of her thoughts.

Was it possible? Had Harry actually picked the thought out of Draco's mind that he was in love with her? If it was true, when and where along the line had that happened? Perhaps when she'd been in the hospital, and Draco had stayed with her? She couldn't be sure.

One thing, though, was sure: she was tired of being afraid of her feelings. Harry was right – she should be the brave Gryffindor lioness she was meant to be. Tonight, she was going to tell Draco Malfoy she loved him! And if he didn't return her feelings… she'd simply have to find a way to get him to. She refused to be so miserable anymore!


	9. Chapters 16 and 17

**CHAPTER SIXTEEN: I NEED YOU TO LOVE ME**

_**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland**_

_**Saturday night, November 22, 1997 **_

Draco appeared at his girlfriend's door precisely on time. When she greeted him, he took her in with a languid sweep of his eyes. She was wearing the outfit he'd requested earlier this afternoon and once more, he felt his erection standing immediately to attention. "Hiya, gorgeous," he leered, and she blushed prettily. "I've come to collect on our deal." He wagged a finger at her playfully. "No Welshing, now."

When she waved a hand for him to enter, he strode confidently into the room, careful to hide what he carried behind his back from her sight until the door was closed. She locked it and waved a charm over the room for privacy, but he stopped her from kissing him by stepping back and smiling mysteriously at her. "Go stand by the fireplace," he bid with a nudge of his chin in the right direction. "And turn your back to me."

She hesitated for a second, but with a beguiling smile, she moved away as he required, honoring their agreement that she was to do whatever he wanted tonight without question. He walked slowly behind, watching the firelight from the hearth silhouette her luscious curves as she got into position for him. That outfit – what little of it there was - really _was_ naughty. He liked it a lot.

Arranging the second half of her surprise down on the small end table near the couch, he took in his hands the first half – a necklace he'd made for her earlier, after he'd finished his shower and dressed. The miniaturized Snitch pendant swayed slightly back and forth on its silver rope chain in his hand as he prepared it for her. He'd _Reducio_'d the little, golden ball he'd caught from today's match into a tiny nugget of its former size after making it inert and repairing its wings, and added a clasp to its top. Then he'd magically elongated and effeminized the titanium necklace his mother had gifted him when he'd been accepted into Slytherin House during First Year and hung the specialized adornment on it. He thought it the perfect gift to symbolize his feelings for her.

As had become the unspoken custom over the last twenty-five years, a Quidditch Seeker kept all of the Snitches he or she had caught in his or her lifetime, as they represented physical proof of his or her dedication towards obtaining the ultimate, most worthy of prizes. Therefore, giving one away had evolved culturally to become as significant a gesture as willing over a part of one's fortune. When the recipient was a romantic interest, the intimation was that of a promise of love and devotion from the Seeker. In this particular case, Draco wanted his gift to signify to Hermione that he wanted to be with her in the long-term, and that he would wait for her feelings to evolve enough to match his someday. He doubted she'd get it, especially since she seemed unfamiliar with Quidditch traditions in general, but _he _knew what it meant, even if she didn't. And one day, he'd tell her the implications if she didn't figure it out on her own.

He took a deep breath, knowing the moment had arrived to present her with his offering, and with his heart in his throat, he swung the necklace over her head and slowly lowered it in front of her eyes. She gasped aloud in joyful surprise, and he slowly exhaled in relief that his present was warmly received. "For you. It's the Snitch from today," he explained, bending his head and whispering in her ear softly. He twined it around her throat, sealed the toggle clasp, and let the jewelry settle between the dip of her breasts, marveling at how right it looked against her light golden skin.

She touched it with trembling fingers. "It's _so beautiful_, Draco," she complimented in awe, completely enamored of his gift. "Are you sure you want to give this to me, though? I know it was an important win for you."

He kissed her cheek, immensely pleased with her reaction. "Consider it a late birthday gift," he nonchalantly commented. He had carefully coached himself in advance not to reference this as a pre-Christmas gift, just in case it made her consider the fast approaching end of their deal, and so he decided upon the next best holiday for such tokens of esteem – birthdays. Girls liked getting presents for their birthdays almost as much as Christmas and St. Valentine's Day he knew from experience, so Granger would surely not deny him the pleasure of giving her something under the cover of such an occasion (even if it _was_ two months late).

He looked over her shoulder at her and she was smiling gently. "Okay," she murmured. "I accept." She turned her head to look up at him with true affection in her eyes. "It's the best birthday gift I've ever received, Draco. Thank you _so much_."

His heart leapt out of his throat and onto the floor at her feet. It took him one false start to tell her she was welcome, and he covered for his ineptness by kissing her nose. She turned her attention back to her new gift, running her fingertips over the chain and the Snitch's curves.

Quickly, while she was distracted, he moved away from her and reached onto the table, pulling up the second part of tonight's surprise. Stepping back into her with it firmly in his grip, he flipped his hand up in front of her and showed her what he was holding. Her breath caught this time and her eyes widened in anticipatory excitement. "It's ostrich plume," he informed her. "The softest feather on the planet." He brushed it over her collar in demonstration and she shuddered in reaction, her chest heaving slightly. From his vantage point above her, he watched her nipples tighten through the sheer fabric of her bra-less top.

"Oh, it's _so silky_," she sighed, her lashes quivering as she closed her lids in ecstasy as the feather caressed her skin. Her lips parted and her blush spread out to cover the whole of her cheeks as he moved the angelic feather against her pulse, and then down her throat. She tilted her head back to accommodate his movements. "I've never felt anything so smooth."

Gently, Draco traced light circles over the skin of her right shoulder, and down her bared arm to her fingertips with his new toy. Her body unconsciously shivered against him and her skin reacted visibly to the sweeping motion. "I'm going to caress you _all over_ with this, Hermione," he breathed hot against her temple. "Every inch of your skin." He proceeded to honor his vow by tracing the feather back up the left side of her arm, over the neglected side of her neck and collar, then her jaw line. He brushed the light gray fluff across her cheeks, playfully ran it over her forehead and down her nose. He rubbed the silky down over her lips and chin, all the while, inside his chest, his heart beat maniacally strong.

Circling around to the front of her in a slow stalk, he twirled the stem of the feather between his fingers, contemplating her, and she watched him with greedy eyes. He leaned in close, his lips brushing across her cheek as he instructed her as to what to do next. "Take your jewelry and clothes off for me. Do it gradually, one piece at a time. No rushing. But leave the necklace on."

When he stepped back, Hermione locked eyes with him and there was a moment that passed between them. This was an important milestone and they both felt it; they were crossing a line now – full nudity for her finally. A nervous shiver ran up her spine, and she licked her lips as she reached up to take her earrings off first. They were long, silver dangling things, which she tossed onto the end table carelessly. Then, she eased up towards her hair and removed the ribbons, letting her curls fall freely down her shoulders. He held his hand out for them and she passed them over, his fingers caressing hers in the exchange.

"I'm keeping these as souvenirs," he promised with a dark smile. He nodded at the rest of her clothes. "Now keep going. All of it off."

She stepped out of her three inch, fancy black heels, nudging them behind her, at the same time as her hands skimmed behind her back to untie the short, black, see-through halter. When the first part went loose under her fingers, she moved to the tie around her neck. The fabric of her sexy, thin top left little to the imagination as it was, but he wanted to see her naked breasts, not be teased by a partially hidden fancy, as he had been this morning. With a yank, the final knot went loose, and slowly – as he'd requested – she moved the strips of fabric off and let them slide down over her breasts and drop to the floor entirely.

His penis jerked in his pants at the sight of her deliciously bared torso, but Draco didn't move, had even stopped twirling the feather stem between his fingers, bewitched by his girlfriend's courageous disrobing. He continued to watch her silently, his eyes roaming the contours of her body up and down, memorizing each detail.

Next, her hands moved to the belt that hung from her hips as she continued her strip-tease for him. The black leather, studded accessory was unclasped and dropped to the floor unceremoniously with a dull thud. Her hands went around to the back of her skirt afterwards – as if the strip of black leather could even be called that; it barely hid her kitty from his sight – and he heard a metal clasp come unrestrained. She nudged the waist down over her hips in a slow, sultry shimmying gesture. As it reached the point where her thighs narrowed, it simply dropped to her feet on its own.

"Turn around in a circle for me, nice and slow," he commanded, wanting to see the back of her tiny knickers to see if his suspicions were right. And they were. She rotated for him, and he nearly came in his pants as a hot flash of desire rushed through him. She was wearing a chain thong. "Where'd you get that slutty, little piece?" he asked, truly curious as she turned back to face him.

Her voice came out breathy as she replied. "Over the summer, in France. I bought some… pretty things for myself… after our little run-in on the beach. Perfume, new shirts, the shoes, some lingerie. I wanted to feel… more adult."

A lecherous smirk slid across his cheek. "That is such a fucking turn-on, baby." His eyes roamed down her body salaciously and he began whirling the feather again between his fingers. "Spin around again, but this time, bend over and take off the panties."

Now she blushed crimson, realizing that this would be the first time she'd be fully naked in front of him, and she'd be in an extremely compromising position at that same moment. She definitely hesitated.

"Do it," he charged a little more forcefully. "You said anything I want, and I want this. So do it slowly. And keep your eyes on me as you move."

Shyly, she turned around and put her thumbs through the tiny straps at her lower hips and slid the thong down gradually as she bent at the waist, looking at him through her arms and past her legs as she moved. Draco's breathing picked up as her glistening core came into view, and he felt his blood soar through his veins. When the little slip of an undergarment hit her ankles, she stopped, unsure as to what to do now.

"Slip them off your feet and spread your legs wide," he directed. "I want you opened up to me."

He heard her nervously exhale and she shut her eyes for a second, but obeyed. As her legs moved open, Draco stepped forward. Teasingly, he ran the feather up one thigh and over her moist lips. Hermione moaned, shifting her weight back and forth, clearly liking the feel of so soft a thing touching her most sensitive, private part. The animal in his chest roared to be let out, but he controlled his natural impulses and played with her for several minutes, stroking her up and down with soft caresses, never making direct skin-on-skin contact.

He urged the feather down the sides and back of each calf and over each foot, once more tickling the backs of her legs and making her convulse and hum approval. Then he worked the feather up over both butt cheeks, and stimulated the nerves all up and down her spine by tracing the gently sloping curve to her neck and then back down and around over her beasts. She was moaning in delight, still bent over for him in a position that compromised her, left her completely exposed. That she trusted him to do something as frightening as this the first time she showed her body off… He wanted to give her a reward for being so faithful and confiding.

Dropping to his knees behind her, he bent his head and laid a kiss directly over her now-soaked opening, letting the feather stroke her nipples at the same moment. "Oh, gods," she gasped, unconsciously swaying forward further onto her palms. He swiped his tongue into her quickly and tasted her for the first time. She was perfect – her smell, her flavor – it was fresh and a little salty and far, far too tempting. He circled her opening briefly, and then he kissed it again and pulled away, but stayed on his knees.

"Stand up and turn around, sweetheart."

When she did as requested, he got a first good look at her femininity from the front. She had thick, dark hair, a little coarser than that on her head, but as he ran his fingers through it, he discovered it to be smoother than any other girl's mound he'd ever touched. He put the ostrich feather down behind him and grabbed her left leg, swinging it up onto his right shoulder. She automatically balanced herself by reaching out and bracing herself against him instinctively. Using two fingers, he fully split open her labia and peeked at the dark, rosy skin between the folds. He adjusted the height of his shoulder a little and her opening came into view for him again. He stared at her for a good ten seconds, taking her all in. "Such a _very_ pretty pussy, Hermione," he breathed on her intentionally with hot air.

He looked up to note her reaction, but she had her eyes shut, and was worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. Even in the dim light from the fire, her embarrassment was obvious. She gasped as he leaned forward and gently nipped her clit once then pulled away. "Granger, look at me," he commanded in his most enticing tone of voice. Eyelids peeked open and she glanced down at him as she shivered in response. "I want you to watch me do this to you. Don't shut your eyes again until you come for me." With that, he swept his tongue from the bottom of her vulva all the way up to her tiny nub, and then latched on and started sucking, his eyes never leaving hers.

This was Draco's second favorite thing to do to a woman, truthfully, because he loved to see her unravel as he expertly glided over her most responsive flesh. Anyone could bang about, but it took a master to make a girl fall to pieces with only their mouth.

Hermione's breath expelled in a rush and she keened as he rolled circles around the small, pink bundle of nerves at the top of her slit, toying with her little bead sensuously, lingering each swish of his tongue a fraction of a second longer than necessary to stoke her desire. Her salty arousal as he worked his way down intoxicated him; her body reacted honestly to his attentions, lubing up immediately. He pressed his nose into her and inhaled, imprinting on her scent with a groan, while his hands grabbed her arse and kneaded gently.

As predicted, as the new, pleasant sensations he was evoking began to work their magic, Hermione's will eroded away and quickly she surrendered to his expertise with shameless cries of pleasure and active small thrusts of her hips, participating fully. Her bare leg on his shoulder tightened to draw him closer, and she tilted her hips up as she moaned with every lick and nip he placed. "Oooooh… that feels _wonderful_… oh, Draco, please don't stop…" Her fingers tangled in his blond hair, mussing it utterly as he caressed her wet folds with his mouth, coating her with his saliva, and sucked hard on the flesh under his tongue.

Her soft mewling was beginning to drive him wild. His cock throbbed for action, but he pushed all thoughts of himself away for now. He'd get his later, for sure. He focused solely on making her come right now, Frenching into her opening. He was as careful with his tongue as he had been with his finger, not wanting to rip anything tonight. And thinking of his fingers… he worked his right hand under her thigh and began tickling her entrance with one digit as his mouth moved back up over her clit. Hermione cried out and nodded, biting her lip, encouraging him. "Yes, _please_ go inside me."

It amazed him to discover what a little nympho his girlfriend had become within the measure of only a few short weeks. She'd transformed from a shy, unsure bookworm into a willing, wanton sex partner practically overnight. And he'd been the one to give this to her, as he'd hoped; to bring out the inner siren that he'd known had secretly lurked under that goody-good, 'Golden girl' persona. It made him feel powerful and possessive of her. "You're mine, Granger," he growled against her. "I'm not letting you go now." He sucked on the inside of her thigh, leaving a love mark as his finger continued to teasingly stroke her entrance in circles. "Say it, Hermione. Say you're mine."

"Yes, yours... I'm yours," she gasped, nearly sobbing from the mounting need. "No, don't let me go. Ohhhh… _please_ don't let me go, Draco."

She was senseless now as her climax approached, begging and pleading with him to bring her quickly. With a triumphant smirk, he swirled his finger inside her gently and thrust it in and out rhythmically. He watched her mouth drop open as if she were having trouble gathering enough air and she practically screamed at the feel of him rubbing that little g-spot on the upper inside of her canal at the same time as he flicked his tongue under her nub at the point where her nerves electrified. With only a few more passes, her face transposed into pleasure-pain, her whole body tensed up, and against his cheek, the pulse behind her inner thigh raced. "Draco, I'm coming for you!" she howled and on the next pass of his tongue, the dam burst for her. Her insides pulsed, rippling powerfully, and a flood of wetness flowed over his finger as she shouted his name at the top of her lungs, her head thrown back in ecstasy. She continued rocking back at forth on him even after the initial peak, her whole body now scrunching forward from the tremendous pressure. "Yes, yes, yes," she repeated the mantra.

His eyes drank in the sight of his lovely girlfriend as her body began to relax slowly, and he found he was utterly enthralled by Hermione. He lapped greedily at the deluge of wetness that drenched them both, swallowing her fluids and reveling in her taste as she continued shaking uncontrollably against him. When she regained enough sanity to open her eyes to gaze down upon him again, her skin was ruby-on-gold, her tongue darted out to moisten her pink, parted lips, and her bronzed-coffee orbs reflected complete vulnerability and trust. She was the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen.

_I love you __so__ fucking much, baby._

He reluctantly let her go and stood to cradle her naked body against him. Cupping her head with both hands, he pressed his lips to hers. "Taste yourself on me," he enticed her, and slanted his mouth, sharing her essence, thrusting his tongue in and out gently. She made an approving purring noise at the flavor, and he couldn't help the smile that broke out on his face. Most girls thought this part was gross, but not Granger. She was open to the experience, and he adored her for it. He pulled back and laid his forehead on hers, his heart out of control behind his ribs. "Shit, I want to finish this and be inside you right now. You drive me mad as a Hatter, sweetheart."

Her arms twined around his neck languidly. "You can have me if you want tonight. I agreed to anything with no regrets."

He was _so_ gods damned tempted by the offer, but shook his head. "Baby, I _want_ to. I _really _want to. But… listen to me, anyone can fuck, Hermione. I want to treat you better than that. I want it to be good for you and to do it for the right reasons."

She glanced at him through her long eyelashes. "How many lessons are we doing tonight?" she asked curiously changing topics.

He smirked. "We just finished six, seven and half of eight. You're going to do the other half of eight on me next, and then we'll go to nine."

"Hmmm… four lessons at once. You're moving awfully fast. Have I gotten to you finally?" She rubbed her wet pelvis against the front of his pants and hooked a leg around him to bring them in tight. She smirked knowingly as his eyes widened, and the turning of the tables on Draco made his blood boil over.

He gripped her backside, pushing her pelvis into intimate contact with his very hard shaft. "You've _definitely_ gotten to me, you minx." He bent his lips to her neck and began sucking on her collar. He gave her a love bite there as well, sucking hard, marking her as his once more. Her skin was slightly salty and sticky from sweat and he groaned. "And right now, I want you to get me off. It's your turn to undress me now," he adjured. "So get to it."

He playfully smacked her arse and she moaned, so he did it again experimentally, and she rubbed against his trousers naughtily. "Hmmm… you like that?"

"Try it again and see," she challenged. "But not too hard."

He complied and she crushed her mouth to his with a groan. "Yes, I like that," she murmured as her tongue licked his lips like a cat with cream. "I like you… taking control of me. _Sometimes._ But sometimes, I want to control you, too." She grabbed his right wrist to stop him from spanking her a fourth time, and her grip was tight.

He nodded in perfect accord with her, and smirked evilly. "I like that about you, Granger… you're not afraid to say what you want." He tenderly rubbed her opposite bum cheek with his left hand as he lingeringly kissed her again. After five or so minutes of some hot tonguing action, he pulled away. "But you just got what you wanted, and I'm still waiting for mine," he reminded her darkly, and moved his free hand up to mold her breast and tweak her nipple. "So hop to it, baby."

Hermione nodded and with eager hands, she started unbuttoning his dark purple Dolce & Gabbana dress shirt, working it off his shoulders and throwing it to the floor when it came free of his wrists. As she reached for his belt, he watched her through half-lidded eyes the whole time. "Kiss me here, baby," he pointed to his left nipple. "Bite me and leave your mark." She ran her tongue down his collar to his peck and complied. When her tiny teeth sunk in he gasped and threw his head back. "Oh, yeah, sweetheart. I'm all yours, too." His fingers smoothed through her curls, keeping her head close to his heart as she licked and suckled on him. When she pulled away to pay attention to the other side, he looked down at her work. His flesh was red, a little swollen, and tiny indents surrounded his nipple. He would bruise there, in that shape of her mouth, and every time he touched it this next week until it faded out, he would remember tonight. That was so _fucking_ awesome!

Draco barely noted when his belt was tossed to the floor, and then his pants were unbuttoned and unzipped. She worked his dark grey, woolen slacks off his hips with a few tugs. He wasn't wearing any boxers underneath and her breath caught and she stared, transfixed at his proudly jutting member. She finished working his clothes off quickly, pushing them over his buttocks and down, and broke their embrace to kneel at his feet to take his shoes and socks off, then to pull his trousers free completely. She looked up between them at his cock wavering in the air and seemed unsure as to what to do next, but definitely eager to learn.

Wanting to ease her into this next move, he pulled her back up and let his naked body press against hers for the first time. She gasped at the feel of his solid length touching her unsheltered mound so intimately. He gripped her hips tightly in his strong hands. "Touch me," he dictated and her fingers lightly reached for him, swiping across his tip, spreading his pre-come along his shaft and making him shudder against his will. His breathing picked up a pace. "Stroke me." She ran her hand over him as she had done before, but now confident enough in the amount of pressure required and how to move it on her own. He closed his eyes and enjoyed her attention for long minutes, gasping lightly and moaning as she made the previously painful ache in his balls transform into a smoldering warmth that rode up and down his shaft along with her hand.

Shifting and bending his knees slightly, and gripping one of her legs, slinging it around his waist, he began rubbing his cock against her pelvis, his silky-steel skin intimately pushing against her curls. Her hands let go of him at the same time and she grabbed onto his shoulders for purchase. "Tilt your hips towards me a little," he directed and she did, looking down just as he was to watch himself grind through her folds. He rubbed himself straight up her slit and against her clit, and she cried out, digging her nails in. He groaned, thrusting slowly, and their combined wetness made the friction nice and smooth between them. "Oh, fuck, baby… feels _so_ good." He shoved himself up through her labia hard, careful not to go too near her entrance with his crown. There would be just too much incentive there to break his resolve.

Tempted beyond belief after only a few passes, they were both gasping and left wanting when he forced himself to move away from her, frustrated that he'd put them through such torture. He practically snarled as he dove after her mouth, kissing her fiercely, wanting to do nothing more than bury himself inside her. They ate at each other, both of them quickly losing control, and with a final swipe of his tongue against hers, he pulled back, fisting her hair again and pulling her face in towards his. "You're going to suck my cock now, Granger," he mandated, his pulse racing like lightning through him as they were now coming to the part he'd been fantasizing about for months. "Get on your knees."

He guided her down before him, and hesitantly, her hand moved up his leg and gripped him again firmly. Her fingers worked their magic on him once more, and he closed his eyes and took a deep breath to regain some measure of himself, realizing he wasn't liking this menacing side that was starting to peek out. He never wanted to hurt Hermione, and he knew that if he didn't get himself managed fast, his dark heritage would come out again, much as it had that morning he'd come to her and confessed his sins. He reminded himself again and again that he loved her, remembered her sweet smiles and teasing laughter and that seemed to do the trick to put his heart back into normal paces. He let her continue to touch him as he calmed, and then he opened his eyes and reached out to stroke her cheek encouragingly. "You're doing perfect, baby," he managed with a level, gentle voice. "Are you ready to learn how to please me with your mouth?"

She nodded. "Teach me."

He smiled, feeling his heart melt all over again. "Start by leaning forward and Frenching the tip, as if you were kissing me. No teeth, just tongue and lips." She did as told, and her shuddering breath was hot against his crown as she connected with him. He twitched under her as she uncertainly moved over him. "You're doing good, sweetheart," he tried to bolster her confidence. "I've wanted this for so long, Hermione. You feel so good. Don't stop." He feathered her facial curves and gave her a heartening smile as she looked up at him nervously. "Open your mouth now and relax your jaw. Drop your tongue to the bottom of your mouth and let me glide in slowly." As she did as he asked, he moved himself into her warm, wet, soft cavern and groaned. "Relax a little more, let me in. No teeth, remember. That's it." He pushed in a bit more, half of his length now buried in her mouth. He could tell when her gag reflex was about to kick in and pulled back slowly. "As I move out, suck in, create pressure. Like that. _Oh,_ _YES!_" he hissed, as she performed perfectly. "That's exactly right, baby. Merlin, that feels so good." He got to the end and stopped, then slowly pushed back in. "Same motions. You control me now," he coached. "Take my hips and move your head back and forth as far as you want. Just remember to relax as I go in, and suck as I pull out." They practiced for several minutes, and Draco thought he would die from the pleasure, gritting his teeth against coming. He needed her to learn how to do this right if he ever wanted her to do it again to him, and control was the factor in giving her that time. It was nearly bloody impossible though, as her mouth was warm and wet, and her lips wrapped around him tightly.

Once more, after she'd tried something out for a bit, Hermione pretty much perfected it. It wasn't long before she had mastered the basic technique and he was teaching her how to swirl her tongue in different patterns around him, and how to properly apply the right amount of pressure if she wanted to use her teeth. She even surprised him when she swept her tongue into the slit at his crown on her own volition. All the while, he coaxed her into taking him deeper and deeper. "Just relax your throat now, and breathe through your nose, inhale in time to my thrusts, exhale as I pull back."

Within a very short amount of time, he was three-quarters the way inside her mouth, and his tip touched the back of her throat. "Baby, you are a natural at this," he complimented her with a smile. "Your mouth was made to pleasure." Apparently, the praise empowered her more than he'd anticipated, for the next thing he knew, she had turned the tables on him again, moving faster over him, sucking harder, and utilizing the tonguing techniques they'd practiced just minutes ago to quickly bring him towards his climax. He gripped her head on both sides, trying to keep himself from thrusting too hard, but tightening up all his lower muscles as he reached for his release. He looked down at his penis sliding in and out of her mouth and his balls tensed up, and fire began winding through him, getting ready to erupt. "Harder, baby. Suck my cock harder," he gasped, right on the edge. "That's it, Hermione… Swallow me when I come, okay? Take me down your throat… Oh, fuck, I'm… I'm there… _GRANGER!_" His hips pistoned uncontrollably in between her lips as he squeezed his eyes shut and shot into the back of her throat. He had just enough sanity left to make sure he didn't shove too hard or hurt her as he gave himself over. His hands tangled through her curls, holding her head motionless as he continued to spray his seed into her mouth for several long seconds with a few more small shoves. When the initial explosion passed and he could peel his eyelids open, he looked down at his girlfriend. Her eyes were closed in concentration, her hands gripping his hips. She had performed magnificently, swallowing as he'd entreated her, not spilling a single drop, breathing through her nose. It had been an amazing blowjob.

When he came down from the high, Draco slowly eased himself out of her mouth, and then fell to his knees in front of Hermione and held her tightly to him. "Thank you. Oh, _gods_, thank you. That was perfect, baby." He kissed her neck and her cheek and then her mouth, tonguing her, tasting himself on her and groaning in ecstasy.

That's when he felt her tears.

A sickening feeling enveloped his heart and gut instantly and he pulled back, concerned. "Did I hurt you?" he asked, suddenly very frightened he had. "Christ, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you." She cried deep, gulping sobs, unable to speak and he murmured loving words to her to try to calm her down. "Baby, we don't have to do that again. I'm so sorry. Please, please don't regret that. You made me feel so good. I loved sharing that with you."

She sobbed harder. Shit, he _had_ been too rough with her. She was a virgin, for Salazar's sake, and that was her first time giving head, and he hadn't been exactly nice to her initially, forcing her onto her knees and commanding her as he had. He pressed his forehead to hers with such regret. "What can I do to make you trust me again, Hermione? How can I make this right? Tell me, and I'll do anything you ask."

She sniffed and pulled back from him, looking him in the eye earnestly. What she said next floored him.

"You can tell me how you _really_ feel about me. It hurts too much not to know anymore. Especially after… what we've just done."

He froze, unsure of what was the right thing to say in that second. What if he told her what was in his heart, and she said she didn't feel the same?

"Do you care for me, Draco?"

Slowly, he nodded.

"Do you love me?"

Fuck.

"Tell me the truth. I need to know where I stand," she implored, her beautiful, golden eyes sparkling in the firelight. "Am I only a good snog or shag to you?"

Slowly, he shook his head.

"So what we're doing… this means more to you than just… just a bunch of… of sex lessons? What we just did meant something to you? Something serious?"

He swallowed and nodded.

"Would it help you to know that I feel the same way?" she asked, her hands gripping his shoulders tightly, her nails pressed into him again. "That… that you mean more to me than just sex. That…" She closed her eyes and scrunched up her face, as if in pain. "That I… I…"

The seconds ticked by as neither said a word. Draco felt his whole soul resonating on the knife's edge of pain and pleasure.

"I'm in love with you."

They both stopped breathing, rendered speechless for a moment by the confession that hung between them.

"What did you say?"

They stared at each other incredulously. Draco's heart started pounding loudly in his ears. Against his palm, he felt Hermione's own natural rhythm pace his in cadence.

"I said that I'm in love… with you."

Tears poured down Hermione's cheeks. Draco felt his own shock reach epic proportions.

"Say it one more time."

Many more seconds of silence passed between them before the declaration was made official by a third speaking of the truth.

"I'm in love with you, Granger."

Hermione started sobbing loudly as she wrapped her arms around Draco's neck, burying her face into his shoulder. He held her to him tightly, wondering what had just happened. Had he really said that aloud? Why was she still crying? Was this a bad thing?

_Please, don't let it be._

He was still in a somewhat dazed state when she pulled back from his embrace and surprised him by slamming her mouth down onto his, kissing him with a passion that was out of control crazy. She moaned as she tongued him deep, coaxing his body into responding against his will. Her tits were pressed into his chest and the nipples were hard buds against his overly sensitive skin. Her damp lower curls rubbed against his newly excited erection. "Take me to bed," she begged him, her hands grabbing his shoulders tightly, her nails raking him lightly. "Tonight, Draco. Take me to bed _right now_." She crawled fully onto his lap instead of just straddling him, pressing his still somewhat erect length between her drenched lips… and _oh, Merlin_, did that feel good!

He had to regain some sanity and quick, for both of their sakes. He pried her off of him with some difficulty. "Granger, wait. Stop! Look at me." He held her head firmly between his hands. "Don't do this just because I said what I did."

Lifting herself up on her knees, she positioned her opening over his suddenly throbbing cock, his recovery period apparently shortened by the blood pumping back through his veins in a flood. He felt his head press against her opening. Holy mother of Merlin! He grabbed her hips and stopped her from moving down the length of him. "Don't," he gritted between his teeth, panting hard. "You can only give this away once. I don't want you to regret this later. I want you to do this for the right reasons."

"Draco, I _am_ doing this for the right reasons," she reassured him in a sweet, low voice, touching his cheeks, forcing him to look into her eyes. "I'm in love with you, too."

He stared up at her, his heart slamming against his ribcage with growing hope. "You don't have to say it just because I did," he murmured, trying to give her an out, just in case it had been the heat of the moment talking.

She shook her head firmly. "Idiot, I've been in love with you for weeks. I was just too afraid to tell you."

He blinked, her words taking a few seconds to sink in. "Seriously?" Yeah, that was him, the elegant orator. But it was all he could think to say at that exact moment. His brain had gone all numb on him.

Hermione nodded.

"You're in love with me?" he asked for qualification, dumbfounded, still riding the stupid train. Maybe he'd been hit with a Quaffle in the head this morning during the match and hadn't noticed?

His girlfriend raised an eyebrow at him as if he were daft. "Are you having a problem with your hearing suddenly, Malfoy?"

Her use of his last name in _that_ infuriating tone made everything suddenly real. He felt the sides of his lips twitch. "Say it again," he demanded of _her_ this time.

She sighed in defeat. "I'm in love with you," she whispered in his ear, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Love, love, _love_. Do you hear me? I'm a fool for you. Absolutely and unreservedly."

He thought his heart was going to burst from his chest, he was so happy. He'd never known such relief mingled with elation.

He was having her tonight.

With a push of his legs and a pull of his arms and stomach, Draco had them both up, Hermione hanging from around his neck as he hauled her against him with an arm tucked under her bum and another supporting her across the length of her back. They kissed all the way to her bed, where he had just enough mind left to toss back her coverlet and lay her between the sheets, and then he was all over her.

They kissed for long minutes, their mouths and hands roaming everywhere in joy. He felt his penis throbbing against her abdomen and his balls were hot and heavy again with need. He non-verbally _Accio_'d his wand to his hand from across the room, where it lay on the end table where he'd placed it earlier. Pulling away slightly, Draco looked down at Hermione and with an easy push up, put space between their bodies. He pointed his wand over her abdomen and spoke the words to a contraceptive charm. A pink light bathed her abdomen and she gasped at the warmth he knew the spell emitted. Then, he tossed his wand over the side of the bed and angled his hips at her entrance, mounting her.

He leaned down to kiss her tenderly, and held her gaze as he pushed his aching cock past her folds towards her entrance. "This will hurt," he warned her with some regret. "I'll try to be gentle, though." He reverently cupped her cheek and slid his thumb over her lips. "Are you ready, love?" Hermione answered by tilting her hips up to meet him. "Then put your arms around my neck, baby, and hold onto me. I've got you. I'll make this as good for you as I can."

He kissed her sweetly and began moving into her.

"I love you, Hermione."

* * *

**CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: INNOCENT NO LONGER **

_**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland**_

_**Saturday night, November 22, 1997 – Sunday, November 23, 1997**_

Hermione did as Draco wanted, sliding her hands up and over his shoulders to tickle the soft, platinum hair at the back of his neck, and then he slowly inched inside of her. She whimpered as the head of him moved into her once more and brought with it some small stinging pain. He stopped just as he had the first time they'd gone this far, and he rocked a little back and forth to open her up. In the doing, she felt her body start to loosen. He looked at her tenderly, his beautiful gray eyes reflecting love and devotion and her heart called out to his. She'd never dreamed he'd loved her back already. With his confession, she felt so alive now, as if a part of her had been sleeping forever, and was finally awakened.

Lowering his body onto hers gently, holding himself up by his elbows, he prepared them for what was coming next by pushing a bit more in. Her body reluctantly gave him entrance, and she tensed up unconsciously. "I'm sorry, I have to push hard now," he murmured. She nodded, worrying her lip and he kissed her gently.

"I love you, too, Draco," she whispered against his lips, and then he surged up into her with one powerful thrust and broke through her virginity at long last. She cried out in pain, her fingernails breaking the skin on his shoulders, gouging him. It _really_ hurt. "Ow, ow, ow…" she murmured, clenching her teeth and exhaling deeply. He was so big and thick! She felt stretched too thin, and he was hitting her all the way in the back against something that made her wince. "Stop, please. Don't move."

Kissing her gently, he stilled completely, letting her body adjust to his invasion. "Baby, look at me," he murmured against her lips and she glanced into his eyes once more. "I love you. Thank you for giving me this."

She licked her lips. "I'm… not a virgin anymore," she shakily replied, a little stunned at that realization.

He smiled and nuzzled her cheek. "No, you're not. And in a few minutes, when you relax a little more, I'm going to show you why people like sex so much. It feels _really_ good, Hermione. I'll make you come again."

Just the thought of feeling those electric shocks through her system made her shudder and her breathing pick up. "I think… you can try to move now."

He blinked, looking at her through a half-lidded gaze. "Let me know if it hurts and I'll stop again, all right?"

She nodded in agreement, and he began slowly moving out of her. She whimpered again but she didn't indicate for him to halt, so he didn't stop until he was almost all the way out, and then he glided back into her equally as slow. At the same moment, he widened his stance a little, pushing her legs out with him and she bent her knees to adjust to the new angle. She hissed as her pelvic bone stretched at the same time as she was filled up by his huge member and it caused her to feel an unexpected twinge of sharp pain. He stilled immediately. They held back for a few more seconds for her to adjust again.

"It's okay," she reassured him when the throbbing ache went away. "You can keep going now."

"You're really tight and small," he informed her, his face slightly worried. "Try to relax your muscles down there. Let go and trust me, love." It took several minutes of his persistent, slow rhythm in and out before she settled enough for them to start actually both enjoying the act of making love. When she felt the first stirrings of desire begin to overtake her again, felt her channel become easier for him to slide through from her renewed wetness, she knew he'd done this right for her.

Her breathing picked up again as he moved her through her pain and into the realm of sexual pleasures once more. She watched him move over her, entranced by his beautiful body strongly and gently giving and taking with each advance and retreat. Her fingers ran through his hair, caressing his head and neck, gliding down over his collar to his chest, where she ran her nails lightly over his nipples. He jerked, losing the rhythm for a moment. His penis twitched inside of her in response, and she felt a smile of discovery wind its way up her face. She touched his nipples again, with the same results, and this time, she knew her smile was absolutely sinful. "You like that, do you?" she asked, tossing his former sentiment around back at him, and he couldn't help but grin at her audacity.

"Witch," he murmured, kissing her. "Stop that or I won't last. I want you to come for me first."

She ground her hips up against his with applied pressure. "Then move a little faster… and push against me a little harder at the top."

He gave her what she asked for and the feeling of him stroking across her clit at the same moment as pushing into her created pure, crackling energy throughout her core. She moaned loudly, and wrapped her slim, golden legs around his pale hips, thrusting up against him instinctively. His reaction to her amplified enthusiasm was to match it; he increased his pace even more, and her hands moved down to his waist and around to grab his hips. She felt the walls of her vagina clamp down on him and pull him deeper into her with each thrust.

"Gods above, you feel _so fucking good_, love," he moaned, tossing his head back on his shoulders and continuing to lunge into her with gradually harder and faster thrusts. "You're perfect, Hermione, in every way."

As he shoved against her nub with more fervor, she dug her nails into his hips slightly and he hissed at the eroticism of the action. "More," she moaned, urging him on, reaching up for his mouth with her own. He brought his lips down on hers and tongued her in time to his hips. They hungrily exchanged kisses, even as the bliss within began to burn her up. She could feel herself cresting that wave of incredible gratification, wanted it, and needed it so desperately that she lost herself completely. "I'm close. Harder, Draco… yes… _Godric_, take me faster, go deeper!"

He whimpered and started ramming into her, and her bed began rocking against the stone wall, the headboard hitting solidly with each powerful, painful, exhilarating thrust. The creaking of its frame was as loud as their combined breathing and gasping.

"Come for me, baby," he begged her in her ear, and she knew his own release was eminent. "_Hurry_."

She grabbed his waist, tightened her thighs and clenched her bottom, driving him directly against her clit. The feeling was liquid fire through her veins. "Oh, god, _DRACO_!" With a mighty pull of her hips, she arched her lower body off the bed entirely and up at him, clinging to that feeling, climaxing at that moment with a _very __loud_ scream of his name, her brain exploding with emotion and sensation that was so intense she thought she'd gladly die from it. He bent his head and bit her left breast hard, marking her at that moment as his and she reveled in the feel of his teeth clamped down on her skin.

When she started to come down slightly from the initial upsurge of her orgasm, Draco wrapped his arms about her, slammed home a few more times and came inside of her in great, wracking spurts and a loud shout of _her_ name. His hot seed shot out of him in powerful, throbbing surges, and her inside muscles rippled in response, pulling him deep up and into her. She actually felt his hot come fill her up and her womb flipped in response. He shuddered on and on, giving her everything he had just before he collapsed from sheer exhaustion on top of her, dropping them both down onto the mattress heavily.

They held each other in the aftermath, both shaken by the intensity of the moment they'd just shared. For Hermione, she'd _never_ experienced anything like she just had, and it left her feeling totally open and vulnerable. She felt like she'd been turned inside out and upside down.

Draco rolled tiredly to his side, taking her with him, pulling out of her body at the same moment, still panting. They each groaned and then lay quietly, lightly touching the other.

"Thank you," they said at the same moment, and then laughed.

"You screamed my name, like I told you that you would," he arrogantly reminded her with a lazy smile, and she playfully swatted at him.

"And you screamed mine," she pointed out, nipping at his lips.

Draco sighed melodramatically. "I suppose. You've whipped me, Granger."

Hermione chuckled evilly at the double _entendre_. "Not yet I haven't…"

He looked at her challengingly mischievous. "The S&M stuff doesn't come until the next set of lessons, love," he warned as she snuggled into the curve of his arms, pressing against his warm body.

"Right… we'll just see how long you can hold out on me," Hermione teased, pressing a kiss to his chest and closing her eyes. Within moments, she was fast asleep, content, happy and very much in love.

x~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~x

Draco stayed awake just long enough to pull the covers up over both of them, and then he readjusted Hermione in his arms, kissed her, whispered that he loved her against her hair and fell asleep. He didn't wake up again until the following morning, well after the sun streamed through the lone window in her room.

His girlfriend was lying on her back, her left arm flung out to the side without care with the wrist flopping off the edge of the bed, her right pressed over her abdomen, her lips parted slightly as she breathed evenly in a relaxed deep, sleep. Her messy hair was splayed around her, and a stray curl stuck to her lips. Gently, he teased the strand of hair out of her mouth and stroked her cheek, pressing a kiss on her at the same moment. She stirred and moaned, but did not wake up. Draco chuckled. Hermione always slept so soundly. She was harder to rouse than the dead.

"Wake up, love," he whispered in her ear, nibbling on her lobe. His cock was already awake, wanting her again, but morning-after sex for a virgin would probably be too difficult and painful for her, so he held himself back. "Hermione… time to get up."

She groused and moaned, pushing him away when he tried to wake her by caressing her nipple, tracing over the lines of his mark on her breast at the same moment. She flipped onto her side away from him, still very much asleep and he laughed. She _really _slumbered deeply.

He lay down behind her, pressed up against her backside and looked across the room. On the end table, Binky had delivered the snacks sometime last night that he'd ordered up before leaving the kitchens. Well, they could have them for a light breakfast, he supposed. In between the bed and his pile of clothes on the floor lay his wand. It had obviously rolled there when he'd thrown it so heedlessly last night in the middle of passion.

Speaking of… memories of the night before invaded his mind. The sights, smells, sounds, tastes, and feelings all crashed into him again. Slytherin's soul, it had been _incredible_ sex, both the foreplay before in front of the hearth and the actual act itself on the bed! For a virgin, she'd been fucking _amazing_. And she told him that she loved him.

He really, truly was the luckiest bastard on the planet.

He looked back at his wand lying inconspicuously in the middle of the floor and considered silently _Accio_'ing it so he could recast the anti-pregnancy charm on her…

No, she was probably much too sore. He should be considerate. He didn't want to hurt her. He'd give her time for her body to heal. The angel in him nodded approvingly at such sage wisdom.

But his dick throbbed against her warm back, and the devil in him nudged rather blatantly, reminding him of her screaming his name as he'd rammed into her over and over, how they'd actually _moved the freakin' bed _with their fucking…

He looked at his wand again.

What the hell?

He summoned it and cast the charm, and the pink light bathed her abdomen once more. He lightly tossed his magical accouterment away again, lifted her right leg up slightly and began teasing her entrance with the tip of his penis. She moaned and squirmed in her slumber, but very quickly, her body reacted whether she willed it to or no. Coating his length with her juices, he eased himself up and inside of her again carefully. She moaned, but still didn't open her eyes. Nor did her breathing change. He wondered if she thought this was a wet dream.

As he leaned over and kissed her neck, he reached around her hip and began stroking her clit in circles. Gently and oh, so slowly, he thrust in and out of her. It hadn't been a dream, thank god. For a moment upon waking, he'd felt that disappointment that had previously accompanied such nighttime journeys through his subconscious, but she was here with him now, her body surrounded him again, and he had made love to her last night, and it had been mind-blowing. "I love you," he hummed against the skin of her throat. "So much, Hermione. I've never loved any girl before. Just you." He leaned up on his elbow and bent to speak directly into her ear. "Stay with me. Don't leave me in December. Be mine."

"Okay," she whispered and her eyelids fluttered open. She turned her head slightly and smiled up at him sleepily. "Mmmm… That feels good."

He blinked, having been taken completely off-guard. He hadn't actually realized she'd woken up until she spoke. Now he was a little embarrassed that he'd sounded so… mushy. "It doesn't hurt? You're not too sore?"

She blinked away her doze. "A little, but it also feels nice. I like the feeling of you inside of me again."

He kissed her shoulder. "So last night was good then?" He knew it was for him, but was a little nervous that he'd been a tad too rough with her - especially after her crying spell.

She reached back with her right hand and touched his cheek. "Last night was everything I ever wanted, Draco. It was everything you'd promised me. Thank you for making my first time so good."

They stared at each other in silence for a dozen heartbeats as his hips continued to move rhythmically in and out of her tight, little snatch. He leaned his face into her palm and kissed it. He then turned and attacked her neck with sucking kisses as his fingers went to work between her legs again. "I'm going to make your second time just as good, love," he promised, and proceeded to do exactly that.

x~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~x

They took a shower afterwards, and he washed her up as he had previously. After shampooing and conditioning her hair, he paid particular attention to tenderly cleaning her lower lips and thighs, gently stroking the cloth over her. They watched each other again silently as he did so, their eyes locked - steel gray on coffee brown. Inside his chest, Draco's heart skipped around.

When he'd finished cleaning her up, she did the same for him, erasing all evidence of her blood from his hips and cock (apparently, she'd bled a little more this last time, because the smudge against his pale hips was bright red in color and it was wet). She touched him softly, marveling at the difference between him erect and not.

Of course, all that touching made sure he didn't stay lifeless for long.

"Do you want to… again?" she asked him innocently, and Draco thought he would seize up and collapse onto the floor from a heart attack. Was she _trying_ to kill him?

"Aren't you too sore?" he asked, a part of him hoping she'd say 'no.'

"No."

Holy Horklump! She was _definitely_ trying to kill him.

He took her in his arms and kissed her. "I think you'll have trouble walking if we do it again," he assumed.

Her naughty, petite hand wrapped around his hardened erection and started stroking. "And your point being?"

He couldn't help but laugh at her audacity. "Seriously, love, I don't want to hurt you. If we fuck again, you'll be in pain."

She leered up at him through sultry eyes. "Oh, so you need better motivation, I take it." With that, she dropped to her knees before him and took him in her mouth once more.

"_OH, __FUCK __ME__!_" he shouted in surprise and mounting excitement.

She popped him out of her mouth for a moment. "In a bit, sure." With that, she proceeded to drive him barmy with her tongue and hands, sucking hard on him as she drew back each time. Draco gripped her hair firmly and he began thrusting a little into her mouth. He got himself really far down her throat now, as she put all of last night's practice to good use. "You… _oh, gods, Hermione_… you give the best head I've ever had."

She sucked him until he started mounting his pleasure and then stopped and stood up, rubbing a finger over her lips. Red faced, panting, and sweltering from the combined heat of his own body temperature and the hot shower, he felt like he might just pass out. He turned the temp slightly down on the faucets and exhaled deeply. "Why'd you stop?"

His sexy girlfriend leaned into him, a burning lust evident in her eyes. "Because I want you to fuck me," she breathed against his face.

Draco's jaw dropped open.

Hermione Granger had just _willingly_ used foul language without being prompted by him first. She'd asked him to… He growled, spun her about, tilted her over, spread her legs with his knee and braced her hands on the tile. Rubbing a finger over her to make sure she was ready – Circe's tit, was she! – he grabbed her hips and slammed into her until he was buried to the hilt. Hermione cried out loudly and he stilled, afraid he'd really hurt her. She looked over her shoulder at him, her long, wet hair sliding across her nude back. "Don't stop, Draco! _Fuck. Me._"

His mind went blank as he blindingly obeyed his Gryffindor goddess.

He thrust into her hard with long strokes, and she keened with every push. "Yes, _Merlin_, _yes!_" she bolstered him on. He knew he had to be hurting her, knew she would be really swollen and tender after this, but he couldn't seem to make himself be gentler. This was one of his fantasies, and she was letting him live it, encouraging him to take her this way. He had only one thing he could give her.

"Baby, touch yourself. You'll come fast, and I don't think I can wait."

Bracing her weight on her left forearm against the wall, her right hand worked its way down between her legs and began rubbing her clit. She practically wailed as he increased his pace and pulled her up onto her tiptoes. He looked down and watched himself fuck her hard from behind, his cock sinking in deep, her cheeks red from his flesh slapping into hers forcefully. His heart slammed against his ribs and he felt his eruption imminent. "Hermione… fuck! I can't hold back! _I can't…!_" His orgasm exploded in the next breath, and red stars burst behind his eyelids as he shot his come into her a third time. His spine bowed as his hips married to hers and he shouted to the ceiling his pleasure.

She followed him two seconds behind, crying out in a deep-toned, delicious moan that echoed off the tile, and her muscles contracted around him, clamping and pulling him into her deeper. He felt his crown knock into her cervix, felt warmth rush all around him, and amazingly, a second, blinding climax was pulled from him unexpectedly. He couldn't even make a sound this time as his body spasmed so hard his breath was utterly stolen from him. All he could do was hold on and squeeze his eyes shut, and this time, there were white detonations amongst the black backdrop behind his lids.

When his body finally let him go, he slumped forward and had to press his hands near hers on the wall to keep from falling over. He couldn't even speak, his throat was so raw and his breathing so heavy. It was Hermione who had to move first. She straightened up as best as she could, and he slid out of her without any effort. Pressing his nose against her hair, he fell forward, pushing against her back, shoving her against the wall flat.

"You… I… you…" she panted, seemingly just as brain dead as he was. "I _really, really_ love you," she finally managed.

He tiredly kissed her temple, sweaty and sated. "I think… I need… a new heart and lungs."

"Hear, hear," she giggled. "And a new… pair of legs."

x~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~x

Draco had to help towel her off, and gingerly carried her to the couch, because as he'd predicted, it hurt too much to walk now (she had almost been sexed to death, but, oh, had it been worth it!). He grabbed her pillows off her bed and the coverlet and they snuggled down together in their favorite seated position, him behind her.

The first thing he did was _Accio_ his wand and cast a belated pregnancy charm on her abdomen, assuring her it would be fine, so long as they did it within an hour of having sex.

Then, he reached over to the end table and picked some sliced apples off of the tray he'd so considerately arranged to have apparated to her room by Binky last night. The sectioned fruit slices were still crisp and flavorful, as if they hadn't been sitting out all night, and she absently made a note to herself to remember to ask how the house elves could perform such a charm on food.

As her boyfriend fed her, he watched her over her shoulder. She took from his hand without question, nibbling all the food down. When she finished with one piece, he reached for an orange wedge and did the same. Then, it was a red pear. By the time they got to the grapes, she turned and looked at him. He had the oddest expression on his face. "What is it?"

He didn't say anything at first, just looked at her through his golden fringed eyelashes. "I can't believe... It feels like…" He paused, his brow furrowing and he looked to the side, suddenly embarrassed.

She turned delicately in his arms to lean on her right hip, her upper body three-quarters flush with him. A sudden panic gripped her center. Did he regret what had happened between them? _Please, no._ "Like what?" she tentatively asked, almost afraid to know.

He wrapped his arms about her and pressed his face into her still damp hair. "I'm more nervous now than ever," he admitted, strangely opening himself up to her in a way he hadn't before. "I don't… want to lose you… now that you're mine."

She swallowed back the lump in her throat, feeling her heart ache. "You won't lose me, Draco. Why would you think that?"

He was still tense, but simply shook his head. "Forget it. It's stupid." He pulled back and touched her face, cupped her cheeks with his hands. "I'm just… tired… and not thinking straight."

Obviously something was bothering him, but she knew not to push instinctively. Whatever this was, he would work it out in his own head. As for looming issues in the mind… "Draco," she looked down at his chest, touching it nervously. "I've been meaning to ask you: would you go to the Yule Ball with me?"

He jerked back, as if taken for a loop. "But isn't it a stag dance?"

Hermione shut her eyes and slapped her hand to her forehead. All this time she'd been agonizing over this issue in the back of her brain, having forgotten the whole purpose behind the Ball to begin with! She groaned, feeling immensely stupid.

Draco's chuckle said he was clearly entertained by her moment of idiocy. "You forgot, didn't you?"

Hermione sighed. "I've been… distracted." She glared up at him. "It's your entire fault, you know. I've spent the last several weeks too worried about how you felt about me to concentrate on important details. If you'd told me sooner, I wouldn't have been so diverted."

He raised an eyebrow at her in amusement and smirked. "Good to know I have that much power over you, Granger."

She laid her cheek against his chest and sighed again, surrendering to the truth. "You have no idea."

x~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~x

They spent the rest of the afternoon cuddled up on the couch, talking and eating the rest of the fruit, cheese and crackers on the tray. When the five o'clock castle bell rung out, Draco sighed. He didn't want to leave, but the reality was they had a test tomorrow morning in Potions and he wanted to finish up his homework for Charms tomorrow afternoon. He told her all this and they reluctantly unwound from around each other, and he stood up, gathering his clothes and redressing.

Every muscle in his body ached deliciously and he stretched slightly as he moved, working out the kinks. Hermione watched him silently, huddled still under her coverlet on the couch. "You should soak in the tub across the hall in the Prefect's bathroom," he advised. "It'll help."

She sighed. "Good idea. Everything hurts."

He turned and flashed a mischievous grin. "Told you."

She stuck her tongue out at him. "Fink."

When he had his shoes back on and gathered his wand, he turned and knelt down by her. His knees cracked and he winced. "Meet you tomorrow for breakfast?"

She nodded and stroked his cheek softly. Her hand dropped into her lap and she frowned. "I don't want you to go."

He smiled slightly and sighed. "Me either." Reaching up, he pushed a curl behind her left ear, and then touched her jaw in a caress. They stared at each other again. "I love you," he murmured, feeling like he was drowning in her dark, gentle eyes.

She leaned forward and kissed him, oh, so sweetly. "I love you, too."

He kissed her again, not wanting to leave, prolonging the inevitable for just a few seconds more, and then he pulled back and stood up. "Take your bath. I'll see you tomorrow."

She stopped him at the door, as he opened it and began to step out.

"Draco!"

He turned back.

"Sweet dreams tonight."

He grinned. "You, too." He stepped out and quietly shut the door behind him, stopped for a second to touch the wood, tempted badly to go back, but then moved away down the hall, heading back for his Common Room. It was only a few hours without her. He could do that.

There was a strange lack of activity throughout the castle, he absently noted as he headed down the stairs, into the Entrance Hall and down into the dungeons. He passed by The Bloody Baron, who was hovering silently, almost nervously by the opening to the Slytherin portal. "Good evening, sir," Draco politely greeted his House ghost. It was never a good thing to be impolite to The Baron. Rumors abounded about the things he'd do to rude Slytherins who got on his bad side.

"Good evening, young Malfoy," The Baron greeted him back. It never failed to impress that The Baron seemed to know every student's name throughout the years, despite not being formally introduced. Draco supposed that had something to do with the fact that The Baron was ethereal and could hover around undetected and listen in on conversations without people being privy to his presence. "You should not tarry, but go posthaste into the Common Area."

Draco stopped, alarmed. The only other time he'd heard The Baron speak like this was when Voldemort's reanimation had been confirmed by Dumbledore, after Cedric Diggory's death in Fourth Year. "What's happened?" he asked, feeling his heart skip around in his chest this time for a completely different reason.

The Baron looked about, his bloodied personage a foreboding omen. "But surely you know! There was an… incident… last night."

Draco's blood ran cold. "What kind of incident sir?" Was that his voice, sounding so… weak?

The Baron would say no more. He ushered Draco through the portal into Slytherin's House area with shooing motions that would not be denied. As soon as the portal entrance slammed shut behind him, he turned to find most of Slytherin House's main players crowding the Common Area. Everyone stopped and looked up at him, conversation ceasing immediately.

This did _so_ not look good.

Draco's stomach bottomed out.

"Drake, where have you been?" Blaise approached him quickly, Pansy and Teddy hot on his heels. He met them half way down the stairs. "We've been looking everywhere for you, mate."

He looked between the three worried faces, and knew this was going to be bad. "What's happened?" he commanded to be told. Now that was more like the Draco he knew!

"There was a massive breakout last night at Azkaban," Blaise informed him. "The Dementors just abandoned their posts for no good reason. All of the Death Eaters escaped."

Pansy took Draco's hand. "I'm so sorry, Draco."

Something in his gut told him what had happened. Somehow, he knew. "My parents… are they dead?"

"No, but your father… he's dying," Blaise told him in a soft, sorrowful voice. "No one knows what spell hit him, but they can't save him. He's at St. Mungo's." He put a hand on Draco's shoulder. "He saved your mother, Drake. Pushed her through the floo grate ahead of him, shielded her from the spell. He took the hit for her."

Draco's whole world crashed.

His father…

"Where is my mother?"

"She's in the safest place in the world they could put her: Dumbledore's office," Teddy told him, and before anyone could say another word, Draco spun on his heel and raced out the portal for the Headmaster's Tower. As he ran at top speed, his mind whirled, his heart pounded.

His father… He'd saved his mother. He was dying. A spell no one knew about. An Unmentionable. It had to be.

_Please no. I haven't… we haven't had time… If he dies…_

Slowly, in the back of his mind, that darker part of him started snapping its teeth.

_If he dies… I'll kill them all._


	10. Chapters 18 and 19

**CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: AGE FOREVER**

_**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland**_

_**Sunday, November 23, 1997 – Monday, November 24, 1997 **_

Taking Draco's advice to heart, Hermione laid back to enjoy a lavender oil soak in the large Prefect's bath, letting the purple shimmering bubbles surround her and the soothing scent relax her sore and tired body. As she leaned her head back against the tile and closed her eyes, calming her body with deep breaths, her mind revisited the last twenty-four hours…

She wasn't a virgin anymore.

The implications of that change were staggering: she'd finally grown up, left her childhood behind, and there was absolutely no going back, not ever. Her whole life would be different now. She'd have to be concerned with things she'd never considered before, like pregnancy. That meant, the next chance she was given, she'd have to ask Draco to teach her the charm to prevent conception, and she'd have to memorize it well. Sex was not just a fun activity, she knew, but also a responsibility.

Despite that, she didn't regret her decision for a second. Giving herself to Draco had been _wonderful_ - everything she'd ever dreamed and wished for. And he was in love with her! Squealing in utter delight, she did a little jig in the tub – well, as much as her knackered body would allow her to move about before protesting. She resolved to take two Ibucalm tonight before bed (she'd been smuggling the Muggle medicine into her trunk since third year so she wouldn't have to keep going to Madam Pomfrey for pain potions during her menses).

Sitting gingerly back once more and closing her eyes, she traipsed through the memories of their last few weeks together. Draco had been so gentle and patient in teaching her the art of love making. Each lesson had been beautiful, each touch and taste and sight profoundly special. He'd been the right man to ask to guide her through this experience, she now realized in retrospect – even if, at the time the proposal was made, it was done for purely lustful reasons, and she'd been a little suspicious of his character initially. It seemed as if this had almost been fated to happen between them, perhaps in the making for years even.

"Oh, hello," a young girl called out to her from somewhere off to her right.

Hermione smiled, recognizing the voice instantly and opened her eyes. "Hello, Myrtle," he greeted back. Over the years since she'd started frequenting this bathroom, she'd become somewhat tentative friends with the depressive, overly-melodramatic ghost. "How are you doing tonight?"

Moaning Myrtle floated down to just above the water line, her long, old-fashioned uniform skirt nearly touching the bubbles. "I'm dead, thank you for asking," she predictably replied. She blinked, looking sincerely worried all of the sudden. "But, I'd be more concerned about my own life at the moment, if I were you. You don't even seem to be the least bit concerned about the terrible, awful things that have happened!"

All of Hermione's internal alarms suddenly went off. She leaned forward, abruptly tense. "What do you mean? What's happened?"

Myrtle sank down into the water, her ghostly form eerily walking towards her until they were standing rather close. She made the motion of flipping back her long, dark ponytails over her shoulders. "The other ghosts are simply buzzing, and the rumors are flying every which way! The racket has upset Peeves something terrible. He began wailing into the drainage pipes that Death Eaters were going to come into Hogwarts finally! I told them it was a bunch of utter nonsense, with the wards about the castle walls and all, but…"

"Myrtle," Hermione cut her off rather harsh and stood up in the bath, uncaring if the ghost saw her naked or not. "_What happened?_"

Sniffling her hurt feelings away, Myrtle sighed. "There was a mass escape from Azkaban earlier today. The Dementors betrayed the Ministry. All of the prisoners are free!"

Hermione's body moved on impulse. She jumped out of the water, quickly toweled herself off, threw on her robe and ran across the hall to her room, leaving an indignant Myrtle behind her, muttering about rudeness in youth these days. Uncaring about formalities at the moment, Hermione threw on some clothes, grabbed two pain pills and swallowed them hurriedly, then rushed off to Gryffindor tower. As soon as she passed through the portal and saw the flurry of activity in the Common Area come to a complete halt, she knew something terrible had happened beyond what Myrtle had told her. Harry, Ron, and Ginny rushed to her side.

"'Mione, you've heard?" Harry asked, taking her hand.

She nodded. "Myrtle just told me that the Death Eaters escaped Azkaban. How many hours ago did this happen? And why did the Dementors abandon the Ministry?"

Harry stared at her, measuring what she had just said and her demeanor. "You _haven't _heard then," he stated simply, great sorrow reflected in his emerald gaze.

She looked between her three friends, noting how Ron and Ginny both avoided meeting her eyes, looking rather uncomfortable. She turned back to her best male friend, a sinking feeling gripping her chest. "What's else happened, Harry?" Her voice sounded breathless, weak, and her knees began knocking together earnestly.

"Malfoy's parents," he began, swallowing a lump in his throat. "They were attacked by Death Eaters. Lucius got hit. He's at St. Mungo's right now." His grip on her fingers tightened. "'Mione, he isn't expected to make it."

"Oh, gods!" she gasped in horror. "Draco…" she pulled her hand out of Harry's and sprinted for the portrait. Behind her, her friend called out for her to wait, but an urgent panic tore into her heart, forcing her legs onward at breakneck speed. Her instincts screamed that her boyfriend was in danger. She ran for all she was worth, taking risks on the moving staircases to jump between them when they were passing close by. When she hit the Entrance Hall, she jammed down the stairs into the Dungeons and flew down the corridors to the Slytherin portal. She stopped just shy of touching it, her path blocked by the foreboding visage of The Blood Baron.

"Good evening, Miss Granger," the ghost greeted politely. "I believe you should return to your own Common Area forthwith, as danger lurks about." His request was firm, letting her know that he had no intention of letting her pass into his House's dormitories.

Hermione's dread reached epic proportions. After taking a moment to regain her breath and calm her racing heart, she formulated a quick counter to the Baron's prohibition. "Lord Swindon," she addressed him formally with a deep curtsy, having researched his true identity long ago after discovering that _Hogwarts: A History_ was rather incomplete regarding the identities of the various ghosts that haunted its hallways. The Baron jerked back in astonishment as his true name was revealed. "I apologize for coming at so late an hour, and at such an unfortunate time," she civilly addressed the ghost, knowing his reputation. "But it is urgent that I find your relation, Draco Malfoy. I'm here in an official capacity as Head Girl," she lied, crossing her fingers behind her back, anxiously hoping the ghost would believe her fib.

The ghost studied her carefully behind dark, glittering, ominous eyes. Clearly, he was considering whether to challenge her falsehood or not. Hermione stood straight and unflinching under his gaze, unwilling to be turned away. Draco needed her and she would do anything necessary to reach him in time – even risk The Baron's ire.

The shade opened his mouth, adjusting his chains over his shoulder with a loud clinking noise. "Young Master Malfoy is not here at the present time," he explained. "He is currently with the Headmaster in his Tower."

Hermione short curtsied again. "Thank you, my Lord, for your generous assistance," she graciously retreated, and headed back down the hall and up towards Dumbledore's office, feeling the ghost's piercing eyes boring holes into the back of her skull as she continued the charade and walked away as calmly as possible.

x~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~x

Draco hit the hidden stairwell for the Headmaster's Tower and threw himself onto the magically raising platform, not knowing the password and too crazed of thought to care. "Take me up now!" he shouted, and the stairwell reacted, as if it had been waiting for his presence. Dumbledore knew he would come apparently.

At the top, he dashed down the short hall to the Headmaster's door and threw it open, out of breath, his lungs aching and his legs shaking from the exertion. The room was the same as the last time he'd been up here, just after the war had ended, except Fawkes perch lay cold and empty (the phoenix had given his life to distract Voldemort so Potter could stab him through the heart with Gryffindor's ruby sword). And his mother was here.

They met at the bottom of the short set of stairs leading up to the dais, throwing arms about each other. His proud, beautiful, aristocratic mother burst into tears. He held her, letting her wail away her guilt, sorrow and anger for long minutes, and then he needed to know the answers to the questions tumbling through his mind. "Tell me what happened," was all he could manage, his own eyes threatening to spill over with his own misery, held back only by a narrow margin of control. His mother was incapable of speech, however, so he turned to his head of Household, who was standing next to Dumbledore's desk and repeated the demand. Black eyes watched him evenly.

"Bellatrix," was all Snape uttered, but Draco understood instinctively the doom that accompanied this one simple name. His mad aunt – his mother's sister – had allowed the Malfoy Manor's Unplottable wards to be removed so that she, and most likely others, could invade his home.

"Because of me?" Draco asked, feeling his insides slowly begin to numb. He already _knew_ the reason his family had been attacked, but he needed confirmation from a higher power, so that when the self-recriminating hatred came upon him later, he would feel it appropriate - sanctioned, even. Snape did not reply this time, but the downturn of his eyes towards the floor spoke volumes. The first of Draco's tears spilled down his alabaster cheeks.

It _had_ been his fault. That bitch had gone after his parents because he'd turned traitor to Voldemort and helped the Order end her secret lover's life. And because he'd killed her husband, Rastaban. Now, his family's life was the exacted revenge. Bella had brought down a terrible reckoning, just as she'd promised she would when she'd been hauled out of court this previous July to begin her lifetime appointment with a dark, desolate prison cell.

It took a few moments for Draco to get his emotions back under some semblance of control. Now was not the time for crying like a fruity, little nancy-boy. He needed answers. "She's still on the loose I take it?" Professor Dumbledore nodded. The old man's cobalt blue eyes were not twinkling now; they were instead filled with a profound sorrow. "And my father?" In his arms, his mother began shaking and sobbing all over again. He held her to his chest tightly, comforting her the best he could.

"In St. Mungo's, being made comfortable," the old man replied evenly.

Draco knew what that meant: no cure. His father was definitely going to die. "What spell was used? Was it an Unmentionable?" Snape's head snapped up in fear, and in his arms, his mother gasped, pushing slightly away from her son and staring up at him in horror. Dumbledore simply looked at him evenly, knowing that Draco was intimately familiar with these forbidden spells, as he had been there the day Rastaban's body had incinerated. The elder wizard simply nodded. "Which one?"

Dumbledore sighed deeply. "_Saecula Saeculorum_," he softly replied, wincing, as if the speaking of even the words alone was enough to conjure evil into his heart.

Draco shut his eyes and clenched his jaw. The aging spell. It literally caused a person to mature through all of the stages of their physical life within hours, until at last they died of old age. The book he'd studied on these particularly nasty, dark curses had explained that this specific magic caused intense pain throughout the joints, bones, organs of the victim as a result of rapid cellular destruction. And there was no cure whatsoever, except to put the victim out of their misery before their body literally rotted out from under them. He swallowed painfully. "How long?"

"Dawn, at the latest," his Headmaster informed them solemnly, and this caused Narcissa to burst into another round of tears. She pressed her forehead to Draco's breast and grabbed onto his upper arms, clenching her fingernails over the same spots Hermione had earlier. It stung, but he willed himself not to feel right at that moment. He still had questions. Later, he would feel enough to burn the world with his hate. He opened his eyes and stared at his two patrons, his face and tone deceptively calm. "Who else was with my aunt?" He wanted names, so he could know who to hunt down later.

No answer was forthcoming from Dumbledore. Clearly, his teacher guessed Draco's plans and was withholding this information purposefully to keep him from acting on it. Lucky for Draco, he had someone with less scruples on his side who knew specifics. "The Aurors have someone in custody…" Snape informed him quickly, his voice hard edged.

"Severus," Dumbledore's sharp warning whipped through the room like a vicious lash, and his face grew quite intensely displeased, requiring the immediate termination of all further discussion on this subject from the Potions Master. Snape simply lowered his eyes to the ground once more and closed his mouth, recognizing his superior's authority. "I would think, Mr. Malfoy," the Headmaster spoke somewhat forcefully, turning all his attention back on Draco, "that you should be more concerned about spending what remaining time you have left with your father."

Making a mental note to get the name of the Death Eater being held by the Ministry from Snape later, Draco nodded in fake acquiescing humility. "I'd like to go to the hospital now, if you have no objections," he stated, knowing he'd need Dumbledore's permission to leave Hogwarts because of the requirements of his Ministry probation. It didn't hurt to play along, for now.

"You and your mother may use the floo here," the Professor indicated the fireplace nearby with a wave of his arm. "I will accompany you, of course." He paused and looked carefully at Draco, then spoke somewhat hesitantly. "Is there… anyone else you would care to have join us?"

It was obvious to whom the Headmaster was referring. Draco shook his head, feeling his heart constrict in pain at the thought of Hermione. He worried for her safety if she were seen with him outside the castle walls, where anyone could spy upon them and recognize her importance to him. She'd become a viable target then. Besides, were she to be so near him once his father took his last breath… He felt emotionally flayed right then, and quite honestly, he wasn't sure he wanted her to see what he was going to become, or to know what he planned to do. She would be ashamed of him, no doubt.

He suddenly felt _so old_, as if he'd aged years in minutes. It was the same feeling he'd had when he'd recovered from the shock of using an Unmentionable Curse on his uncle. Something in him had changed – a fundamental shift, some innocence lost.

"No, I don't want her with me right now."

Dumbledore's cerulean gaze bore into him with weighty knowledge, but Draco simply stared back determinedly, unwilling to be coerced into changing his mind. Snape, he noticed, frowned at him as well, obviously not in agreement with his answer either. Clearly, both men knew of his relationship with Granger - what teacher didn't know by now, honestly? - and both thought Hermione's presence would be comforting and calming for him. But that dark part of him didn't _want_ to be made tame; it hungered for vengeance and blood. And he had every intention of giving it exactly what it wanted later.

"As you wish," his Professor conceded. He turned to Snape. "Severus, if you would be so kind as to inform Minerva that she will be in charge here until our return?" Professor Snape nodded, and a silent message seemed to pass between them in the seconds after. Then, the dark-haired Potions Master headed for the door, his black cape billowing behind him, his face grim and set.

Draco turned his attention to his mother, pulling her slightly away. "Mother, are you ready?" he asked gently, reaching into his pocket and withdrawing his handkerchief for her use. She took it with trembling hands and dabbed at her eyes, nose and cheeks with it, and then she nodded.

"Yes," she stated, her voice raspy from crying. She sniffed delicately, pulling herself together admirably. "Your father needs us, Draco. We should be at his side now."

He gripped her shoulders to steady her, stepping back a bit, and then he took her hand and led her up the short flight of steps to Dumbledore's side. "Lead the way, sir."

x~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~x

Hermione turned the corner to the Headmaster's Tower sharply, and collided with someone moving swiftly towards her at the same moment. With an "oof!" she bounced backwards and fell on her bum rather spectacularly, and the sudden contact of the freezing, stone surface of the hallway against her overheated, perspiring skin on the backs of her thighs was a shock to her system. "Owwww!" she moaned, feeling every sore and pained point on her body flare up in agony again when she tried to move, despite the medicine she'd taken earlier.

"Clumsy fool!" Professor Snape hissed in the darkened hallway. "You should know better than to be running through the halls at this late hour without your wand lit."

She spoke without thinking of the consequence, her nerves frazzled and too scared to care. "As should you," she shot back, and then gasped and put her hand over her mouth in shame and embarrassment, recognizing to whom she'd just spoke so insubordinately towards. "Oh, excuse me, Professor," she stammered. "I apologize! You startled me, is all."

Snape's wand tip lit up the darkness with a non-verbal incantation and the corridor flooded with white light that Hermione had to shield her eyes from until she adjusted. Her teacher was straightening his robes as she finally began picking herself back up, moving carefully and slowly off the ground. Everything still hurt!

"I assume by your hurry, Miss Granger, that you've heard the unfortunate news," Severus stated, not asked. The man was, if nothing else, a quick deductor of facts. She nodded. "Then I'm sorry to be the one to inform you, but Draco is already on his way to the hospital with his mother and the Headmaster. You've just missed him."

Hermione's hand came up unconsciously to grip her heart. "Then it's true?" she asked, fearing the worst. "His father… He's dying then?"

Her Potions Professor stared at her for a moment in consideration. "Unfortunately, yes, Lucius Malfoy will not see the sun rise tomorrow."

The hand moved up to her mouth as she choked out a sob, hurting for the man she loved. Although Draco did not discuss his relationship with his father with her, she knew that losing a parent – no matter how difficult the relationship between them had been in the past - was going to devastate him. "Draco… can I… go to him?" She knew that by now, all of the teachers were well aware of her relationship with Malfoy; they'd been the talk of the school for practically a week after their very public kiss in the dining hall, for pity's sake! And they'd been almost continually together since, walking to classes, holding hands, and snogging in the corridors on occasion.

Severus shook his head. "He has requested that you not be present, Miss Granger."

Hermione leaned heavily against the wall shocked by these words. Draco had denied her help? Why would he do that? He needed her now, more than ever… didn't he? Why did he shut her out of this part of his life continually?

_I want to be there for him._

She hadn't realized she'd spoken that last sentiment aloud until Snape replied. "That is very compassionate of you, I'm sure, but Draco was very clear about his feelings on the matter. He wanted no one aside from his mother. I assume he has done this to spare you and his friends grief."

She blinked back tears. "I'll cry for him no matter what."

It was silent in the corridor for several heartbeats before Snape's firm hand on her shoulder, directing her back the way she had come, brought her out of her stupor. "Perhaps you should spend the night in the Gryffindor Tower with friends."

Still somewhat dazed, her mind agonizing over Draco's rejection of her presence, Hermione allowed herself to be led to The Fat Lady's portrait by her teacher. Before she entered, Snape captured her attention one last time. "Miss Granger, should Mr. Malfoy have need of you, I will certainly let you know. Until then, I would recommend you stay close to Potter and Weasley. And do not leave the castle unaccompanied – not even to go to the Owlry."

Numbly, she nodded, and pushed open the portal to return to her House Common Room. Behind her, Snape waited until the portrait closed completely before heading off. The room, which had thinned out only minimally over the last twenty minutes she'd been gone, grew eerily silent with her return. Everyone, it seemed, wanted to remain downstairs and they grouped together, like some sort of grazing herd fearing wolves on the perimeter. That and they were waiting for juicy gossip to walk in – as it just had.

Immediately, Harry, Ron and Ginny leapt to their feet and crossed the room to her. Harry took one look at Hermione's face and pulled her in for a comforting hug. As if the switch keeping her emotions in check had suddenly been turned off deep inside, she started crying. Ginny's comforting hand on her lower back and Ron's touch on her hand, which rested on Harry's shoulder, reminded her again of how lucky she was to have such loyal, loving family. She cried even harder, realizing that Draco would not have this in his time of need; his mother would be completely no help whatsoever once her husband passed, as she'd be consumed with her own sorrow, and he had no other family that he was close to. And he had allowed none of his friends to be with him either, it seemed.

"There's no hope," she forlornly explained. "His father's going to die before tomorrow morning, and I've been forbidden to be with him." She sobbed, heartbroken. "Oh, Harry, he'll be all alone with his grief!" Her cries were loud in the hushed room.

Harry and the others continued to comfort her in the best they could for long minutes. Finally, when she quieted some, they led her to the couch directly in front of the warm fire, which Seamus and the others scrambled to vacate out of respect. She laid her head on Harry's shoulder as they sat back in the cushions together, the four of them, side by side. After a while, hushed conversations behind and around them picked back up. Behind her and to the left, at the table against the back wall, Dean Thomas was playing Wizard's Chess with Fay Dunbar (with Tiffany Kellah sitting in and giving pointers to Dean, as he was apparently losing badly). Behind and to the right sat Anna Mirfield, Lavendar Brown, Parvati Patel, Julie Parkes, and Romilda Vane huddled together in a circle of plush chairs, leaning in towards the center of their ring at a Divination ball, looking for mystical portents and ominous signs of the future. On the carpet just beyond the chairs, in the far corner, Nigel Wespert and Jason Swann were playing a game of "Jack Stone" Gobstones on the wooden floor, while Yuvraj Suri and Roderick Seaton sidelined. Seamus, Neil Randall, Adam Pickering and Sean Ogbourne were standing directly behind the couch, and all had their wands out, discussing defensive spells. Diagonal from where Hermione currently was seated, in one of the cozy back chairs directly in front of the couch, Neville sat quietly with Trevor, petting his croaking toad soothingly, his face worried, his mind lost in thought.

Staring into the crackling, incandescent glow at the hearth, Hermione's mind was brought back to Saturday night, in front of her own fireplace in her bedroom. "Harry, you were right," she murmured, remembering the tender confessions of love she and Draco exchanged as they knelt down together, naked, gazing into each other's eyes in wonder and a little fear.

Next to her, Harry shifted a little uncomfortably. He leaned into her ear and whispered. "Shut your mind off. You're throwing me a vision I don't think you want me to see."

She blushed and closed her eyes, groaning. "Sorry," she murmured, utterly embarrassed. Harry just nodded in understanding. The ever oblivious Ron, of course, picked that particular moment to ask what they'd just been talking about, and both she and Harry quickly replied, "Nothing," at the same time and in the same tone. The matter was dropped without another word.

A little later, Hermione was finally lulled into sleep by the warmth of the fire, totally exhausted emotionally and physically. Before she lost consciousness, her last thought was to hope Draco would call on her tonight.

x~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~x

Slouching into the high backed, leather couch in the Slytherin Common Area, Teddy couldn't sleep, even after most of his dorm mates had slunk off to bed. The conversations of the incident at Azkaban and the Malfoy Manor having been exhausted by midnight, and it was now one o'clock in the morning, and Drake hadn't yet returned. He probably wouldn't for a few days, but for some odd reason, Teddy felt the need to remain awake and vigilant, just in case his friend needed him.

If only his fatigued body felt the same way as his mind and heart. He was _so_ worn out!

Closing his eyes for a second, he rubbed his thumb and forefinger against the bridge of his nose. Before he knew it, he was out cold, lying horizontal across the couch, his cheek pressed to the chilled arm.

An hour or so later, he awoke quite suddenly, sensing a presence hovering over him. Blinking back sleep, he glanced up at Daphne bent down, frozen in the act of slipping a blanket on top of him. He sat up abruptly and was immediately impaled on her jade green eyes. They were mere centimeters apart, and he could feel her warm breath on his cheeks. It took two tries for him to speak. "What do you think you're doing?" The question came out harsher than he'd wanted, but then, this was Daphne, and it seemed even his subconscious wanted to keep her at arm's length.

His ex- blinked and slowly stood to her full 1.77 meters. "You looked cold," she commented off-hand, her face returning to its usual mask of neutrality. "You're waiting up for Malfoy." It was not a question, so he did not feel the need to answer. Instead, he continued to stare at her. They were alone now, he absently noted, everyone else having gone off to bed. "I tried to sleep earlier, but had a nightmare about Death Eaters. I don't want to go back to sleep right away. I'll wait here with you, if you don't mind."

Teddy blinked, and only then noticed that Daphne was wearing her pajamas – Slytherin green satin, the top an elegant, long-sleeved button up, the drawstring pants swishing over her fluffy black slippered feet. Her nipples proudly stood out against the fabric; she obviously wasn't wearing a bra. Teddy swallowed and turned his face to his knees, banishing the memory of the feel and taste of those lush breasts of hers from his thoughts. "Do whatever you want. You always do."

She sat next to him on the couch, scrunching her legs under her and to the side. Reaching out, she captured a bit of the blanket that lay across him and pulled it over her lap as well. They sat in silence for the longest time, and the tension was thick enough to wade through. Finally, Teddy sighed. "What do you really want, Daph?" he asked, forlorn, tired of this cat-and-mouse swatting back and forth between them. He turned his head and stared her down. "What the hell have I done to get you to be so persistently after me lately? Did I insult you or something?" He ran a hand through his bangs, pushing them off his face. "Can't you just let it go, whatever it is?"

She studied him for several heartbeats before replying. "No, I can't. Not this time."

He clenched his teeth in annoyance and started to get up. Daphne moved fast and with such strength, that he was completely taken off guard. He was suddenly shoved back against the arm of the couch, and she was leaning against him, her breasts crushed to his ribs. She stared up at him, her chest heaving in indignation, her eyes intensely locked on his. "Listen to me, Theo, and listen good," she commanded, clearly angry, holding onto his wrist hard in her smaller hand. "I've put up with your mistreatment of me for too long, and over something that wasn't my fault. Two years ago, with Toby… He came to my room to blackmail me. I didn't invite him there. I _swear_ to you, I didn't want him to touch me!"

Teddy's sanity returned in a flash and he sneered down at her. "Oh, yeah? Well, what'd he have on you, Daph? That you enjoy playing with men, like we're no better than sex toys? No big news there."

She stared at him incredulously her grip on his arm loosening. In growing anger, she hauled back and slapped him, and then she attempted to make her escape. Teddy grabbed her roughly, however, preventing her flight. He pushed her down into the couch, laying his heavier bulk across her, pinning her wrists to the cushions. "That's the second time you've hit me," he reminded her coldly, keeping his ire in check just barely. "I let you get away with it once in Fifth Year when we broke up, but not this time."

Daphne stared hatefully up at him. "What are you going to do, hit me back?"

Teddy's body had somehow found its way in between her thighs, and his pelvis was currently resting against hers. He was suddenly very aware of her lithe form under his, and memories of their times in bed together so long ago sprang forth into his mind, making him instantly hard. She'd been his first, and he'd thought he'd loved her once upon a time… He shifted unconsciously, and Daphne's eyes widened in part fear, part awakening desire.

"You _want_ me," he stated in dawning understanding, his gaze lingering on her parted, rosy lips. "_That's_ what you've been after. You want me back in your bed."

Daphne said nothing. She didn't need to. The blush that crawled across her pale features as she turned her head to the side suddenly with panicked eyes was very telling. He leaned his lips against her cheek, feeling his fury rising again at her audacity. If she thought she could use her feminine wiles to get him in another compromising position all in exchange for keeping the secret of his illness, she had another thing coming! "Do you want me to fuck you, Daphne?" he taunted, wanting to push her into admitting her duplicity. "You do, don't you? You want this…" He rubbed his erection against her slow, letting her feel every inch of him pressing against her core.

Closing her eyes in mortification, she did not struggle, merely lay under his power limply. "Don't do this," she whispered, her voice raspy and low. "Please, Theo, don't."

Teddy shook his head, angry with her for the games she'd been playing with him for years, feeling the old, familiar pain from her betrayal rise up and start shredding his chest wide open again. He wanted to hurt her as she'd hurt him – to break her as she'd almost broken him - so he let his cruel mouth run away from him for once. "What's wrong, _babe_, couldn't find a guy to take care of you this month? Have to come to the sick guy to get off? Or maybe this is all about the pity fuck?" He snarled. "Either way, I'm sure it's something a lying whore like you can sink her teeth into."

She turned her head back to him, furious. "Unless you intend on sexually assaulting me, I want you to get off, Theo. You're hurting me." Her tone was a low, livid hiss, but her eyes were deep pools of pain. Shocked by the naked, raw emotions reflecting in her gaze and by her staggering words, Teddy loosened his grip enough for her to shove him off. On shaky legs, Daphne pulled herself up quickly, righting her pajama top as she moved off towards the girl's dormitory entrance swiftly. As she reached the stairs, she stopped and turned back to him, hot, salty tears pouring down her cheeks. "Congratulations, Theo. You've finally convinced me that you never really knew me at all, and that you're more like Toby than I ever imagined you could be." With a toss of her long, blonde hair, she hurried away.

Teddy sat back on the couch, wholly stunned.

More like Toby… What the hell did that mean? What the hell had actually happened between her and Lennox anyway?

He thought back on what had transpired the day he'd confronted her about her affair. She'd just stared at him, first in horror, then anger, and then in cold resignation. She hadn't argued his accusations once (aside from the nasty slap she'd given him after he'd viciously asked if she'd enjoyed sucking Ravenclaw's heartthrob off); she'd merely turned on her heel and walked away as he'd shouted to her that he was through with her "cheating, bitch self!" Now he looked at that incident and saw potential possibilities that hadn't been there before.

Had Toby done something to her that day in her room – something sexual she hadn't wanted? Had he forced himself on her? If so, why hadn't she said anything at the time? Or hell, after? It had been years; you'd think she'd have said something by now if she'd been hurt in that way. Or was this just another manipulation meant to cause him to have these sorts of doubts, to throw him off? She _was_ Slytherin, after all. What could he trust?

Running a hand through his long bangs, Teddy closed his eyes in mounting frustration. If she hadn't been lying… all these years… all the hateful things he'd said to her… just now, what he'd done…

Gods, what was the truth?

He sat up until four in the morning agonizing through all probable scenarios in his head, making himself physically ill. This was not just his disease causing him to be so sick, he knew, trying to quell his shaking limbs. No, this was also doubt. And regret. The glaze of sharp pain in Daphne's eyes as he'd leaned over her so menacingly… the tears that shimmered in her haunted gaze as she'd turned back with her parting shot… they hurt to think about now.

What had he done? What had _they_ done to each other these last two years? And why?

The only way to know definitively was to either get Daphne to tell him directly, which she didn't seem inclined to do, or to go to the next best person who might know: Astoria.

With an exhausted sigh and a course of action set in his mind, Teddy picked up the blanket his ex- had brought down for him and dragged himself up to his bed, realizing that Drake wasn't coming home tonight. Shucking his clothing, he crawled under his blankets and drew Daphne's over him, smelling her familiar perfume all over the soft fabric. With guilt about his treatment of her, and worry for Drake both gnawing away at him, he fell into a restless sleep. Unfortunately, he forgot to set his wand to buzz and wake him, so he slept until almost noon – missing his first class of the day, and the news of Draco's father's death.

* * *

**CHAPTER NINETEEN: JE T'AIME, ADIEU **

_**St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies & Injuries, London, England**_

_**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland **_

_**Monday, November 24, 1997 **_

By itself, Lucius' private hospital suite smelled entirely too sterile, and the walls were blaringly too white to be completely relaxing, in Draco's opinion. However, when combined with the serene, deep blue upholstered fabric chairs positioned on either side of the full-sized bed, _and_ with the forest green cotton blankets covering the ailing form lying prone in the middle of the mattress, _and_ with a Calm-Inducing spell that had been permanently cast on the room to sooth nerves, the effect was an odd sang-froid serenity that the Malfoy heir (and soon to be Lord) had never experienced before, but found himself unwittingly caught up within.

He knew it was entirely intentional, too. The collective visual and magical stimulation was meant to keep both patients and visitors alike from acting out the typical, hysterical chaos surrounding a shared bereavement, and to create an artificial environment in which there could be rational, gentle, hushed last discussions between loved ones. And it worked like… well, like a charm, to borrow the quaint Muggle phrase. For, as intended, it gave Lucius and Draco the opportunity to finally have the talk they'd so desperately needed to clear the air between them. That single hour spent together was the most honest and open father and son had ever been with each other, and Draco thought it tragically painful that it had taken something as drastic as his sire's inevitable doom for them to finally reconcile.

Through tears, they'd each forgiven the other for a lifetime of slights and misunderstandings and disappointed expectations. Then, through wistful smiles, there were sincere praises - Lucius' confessed pride in having a son so magically and physically strong, so handsome, and so fiercely loyal to his loved ones; Draco pronounced open admiration for having a father so commanding, formidable, constant and faithful to his wife and only child. It wasn't ego-stroking. It was simply the truth, for once.

When that was out of the way, there came the prompted casual questions of the son's future. Draco explained how, after graduation, he'd decided to abandon his previous preference for trying for a spot on one of the National Quidditch teams, and instead would take his grandmother's inheritance and invest his capital in the foreign spice, magical plant and herb trade, which was emerging as one of the biggest wizarding industries in recent days (rare potion ingredients had been discovered on forgotten islands in the Pacific, and in the deepest jungles of the Congo and the Amazon earlier this year, which was setting off a boom of applications to Gringotts for business and expedition loans). His ambition was to use the profits generated from such ventures to rebuild the Malfoy fortune single-handedly (which had taken a major hit after Lucius' incarceration in Azkaban and the excessive fine they'd had to pay as part of the deal for his unconditional release). His father seemed extremely pleased with these goals, and encouraged them.

Conversation then turned naturally to future family affairs, and Draco felt no need to withhold any truths. He told his father about how he'd fallen in love with a good woman already (and she with him), and that although she didn't come from a Pureblood background, that she was still the most magically powerful witch of their age, a war heroine of distinction, a scholar of great intelligence, a beauty in her own right, and a woman with _very_ powerful connections. She would bring even greater glory and respect to the family name, he'd boasted, feeling pride in his Hermione. It hadn't taken much more than that for both Lucius and Narcissa to guess Granger's identity, and although his father's blood prejudice had not dimmed, even in the face of the Reaper's lowering scythe, he had seen Draco was truly happy when he spoke of his girl, and so near the very end, his father had even given his blessing.

As the hour came to a close, the last and only promise required of Draco was to protect his mother, which he unhesitatingly swore to do on his wizard's power and his life. He would not rest until Bella and the other Death Eaters no longer posed any kind of threat to his family.

Satisfied, the rapidly aging Lucius turned to his wife then, and Draco moved over to the window, looking out over the rainy London streets in distraction, giving his parents their private space.

It occurred to him in an odd contemplative moment that the Muggles hurrying to and fro below, with their wide umbrellas and dull, serious slickers, were completely oblivious of this magical center for healing right under their very noses. It was a sobering realization that he was, for all intents and purposes, invisible to the vast majority of people on the planet. To the non-magical, he was truly a non-entity; a shadow that they could never know or see, except when he wanted them to. And when he died, as his father was about to, it would be as if neither of them had even existed at all - at least, not to those people below. From their perspective, he and every other wizard and witch on the planet weren't just part of the nameless masses, but beings as ethereal as angels, with the powers of gods.

An hour later, Lucius' pain became unbearable, and the quaking in his limbs uncontrollable. He asked his wife to call for the doctor, and after a whispered conversation with the Medi-Wizard, the doctor sighed resignedly and nodded, and left the room hurriedly. He returned a few minutes later, pressed a small, black vial into Lucius's hand and said his goodbyes respectfully, retreating out the door. Draco returned to his father's side and took his sire's weakened, fragile hand in his, passing on what little warmth he could.

After self-administering the extremely potent sleeping draught that would take his pain away permanently, the Malfoy sire made a final benediction, wishing his son a life of good fortune and great affection, and then had turned his gaze to his wife, thanking her for ever being at his side, whispering his love to her in his native French. He expired his last, shuddering breath half a minute later, at 5:07 a.m., his eyes fluttering closed and Draco thought he'd never seen his father more relaxed than in that moment.

Narcissa's sobs were loud in the room, as she gathered the limp, skeletal fingers of her husband to her cheek and cradled it, rocking back and forth in infinite sorrow. Letting go of his hold on Lucius' shrunken, permanently stilled flesh, Draco moved to her side, and wrapped his arms about her bird-thin frame. It took almost an hour before she would let go of his father's cooling limb, and allow herself to be led out of the room, however. Dumbledore immediately greeted them when he opened the door, and he took Narcissa in his grandfatherly arms with words of deep sympathy and consolation and herded her off towards the lobby to sit.

Before he closed the door for the last time, Draco looked back, staring down at the aged, liver spotted features of his father's wrinkled, leathery, lined face – a countenance that had been so proud and handsome just yesterday - and felt a devastating, hollow ache in his chest. He did not cry, however, reminding himself that there would be time for that later… when Bella and the others lay dead at his feet.

He shut the door and leaned his head back against the wood, completely ignoring the two green-cloaked Aurors who stood at attention across the way. There were plans to make now. He swallowed the lump in his throat, knowing what had to be first.

He regretted lying to his father about making Granger his wife someday, but he knew the score: as long as Bella and the others were on the loose, no one who'd fought in the war on the winning side was safe. Being Potter's best friend and directly responsible for Voldemort's ultimate defeat was sure to put Hermione on the short list of who was next to target, and he _had_ to protect her, no matter the cost.

Strangely, he felt absolutely no remorse whatsoever with the idea of killing again. No, the only pang of regret he felt was in having to set Hermione free. He didn't want her waiting around for him to return, knowing it could take years to track all of the Death Eaters down. And even if he succeeded and wasn't killed in the process, he'd either be tossed into Azkaban for life when it was over (in which case, he wouldn't want her wasting her life hanging around a prison), or he'd be given the Dementor's Kiss (if those fuckers were coerced into going back to their previously abandoned posts, that was). He wouldn't want her to witness his execution.

Could he do it, though? Could he willingly tell her 'adieu'?

He shut his eyes in pain and clenched his jaw at the thought of that confrontation. The imagining _hurt_ until he was almost suffocated by the grief.

Gods above forgive him for his selfishness, but he didn't want to let her go!

X~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~X

Hermione awoke with a start, feeling ice clench her heart. She sat forward on the lip of the russet-colored couch and gripped the area above her heart, trying to calm its racing and restore a more even breathing rhythm.

Had that just been a dream? It had felt _so_ real.

The vision of Draco looking down upon his father's dead, empty face had brought with it sadness so profound that it gripped and shook her very soul. _I'm sorry_, he'd said to her then, looking into her gaze earnestly, his beautiful wintery orbs tinged with sincere regret.

Taking a deep breath, she looked up at the Sandkeeper that sat on the large fireplace mantle. It read 6:10 a.m. She wondered if Lucius was gone yet, and how Draco was feeling.

Looking to her left, she expected to find Harry fast asleep, but he was gone. She touched the spot where he had previously been, and panicked. When had he gotten up? If he'd just gone to the loo, the cushion wouldn't be so cold to the touch. He obviously hadn't been there in a long while. But why would he just abandon her during such a time? Standing up hurriedly, she roused Ron and Ginny. "Wake up, you guys," she whispered, not wanting to disturb Neville, who had fallen asleep in the cozy chair he'd been reclining in earlier; Trevor was nowhere to be seen or heard. "Ron, Ginny, get up!" She was more forceful than she wanted to be, but only managed to get Ginny to open her eyes. Her ex- however, simply smacked his lips together, groaned and collapsed down onto the spot she'd recently vacated, curling up and snoring again immediately. "Honestly!" she huffed, annoyed. "Ginny, have you seen Harry?"

That managed to immediately stir her friend into full consciousness. "Harry? Huh?"

"He's not here," Hermione explained. "And from how cold his seat was next to me, I think he left a long time ago, during the middle of the night."

Ginny rubbed her sandbagged eyes and stood on wobbly legs, obviously exhausted. She was sure her best girlfriend hadn't slept well crouched down as she had been in the sofa, her neck at an odd angle. "Maybe he went up to his bed?"

Fortunately, the boys side of the dormitory was not enchanted to keep the female gender out (as it was for the girl's side to keep the male gender away), so she and Ginny hauled up the stairs and turned left at the 'v' towards Harry's room. They threw open the door to see Seamus and Dean fast asleep in their beds, but the other three lofts – Harry's, Ron's and Neville's – were all empty. None of them looked slept in either. The girls crept back out and headed for Hermione's room.

"Where would he have gone, though?" her red-headed friend asked, chewing her bottom lip in worry now. "You don't think he went to the hospital, do you?"

Hermione nodded. "I think that's exactly where he's gone. Didn't you notice that his broom was missing against the wall?"

Ginny's rust-colored eyebrows raised in surprise. "No, I didn't. If he flew to London, that's a four hour trip from here, right?"

Hermione shrugged. "It took us a little longer to get there by Thestral that one time, so maybe two and a half only by broom, if he put on speed." She stopped in front of Ginny's door. "In any case, I'm going to Draco and I want you to come with." She gripped her heart. "Something's _really _wrong with him. I can feel it." She looked at her friend, growing fear etched upon her face. "I think he plans to do something terrible – like hunt down those responsible for his father's death. I'm not sure how I know that. I just _do_."

Ginny stared at her and nodded. "Like with Teddy that time he tried to kill himself. You just knew."

Hermione gasped, realizing she had the solution to their problems right under her fingertips. "Oh, gods, I totally forgot! The Time-Turner!" She reached into her blouse and pulled it out excitedly, hope flaring in her heart. To her immediate disappointment, however, the item remained cool to the touch, not reacting to this situation as it had during Teddy's emergency, or even that morning Draco had come to her room and they'd almost had sex the first time. She frowned. "That's weird. It's not doing anything. Usually, it warms if there's a situation requiring its use."

Ginny's eyes bugged out of her head. "Where did you get _that_?" she asked, pointing at the pendant necklace, recognizing it instantly from their time in the Department of Mysteries, when they'd accidentally destroyed the entire supply of like devices.

Hermione put the necklace back under her shirt (its chain lying across the Snitch necklace) and rushed Ginny into her room. "Go change. Meet me at the Headmaster's Tower entrance in twenty minutes." She hurried away, back down the stairs, passed by Ron and Neville – both of whom were still out cold, crossed through the Fat Lady's portrait and scurried off to her own room. Quickly throwing her dirties into her laundry chute, she washed up fast in the bathroom, brushed her teeth, ran a comb through her unmanageable hair (and finally ended up putting it into a ponytail), and tossed on some clean Muggle clothes (black jeans, a knit jumper, socks and her trainers). Grabbing her coat, just in case, and her wand, she made her way up to Dumbledore's stairwell, determined to stop Draco from making a terrible mistake.

X~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~X

Draco's mother was in a side lobby, being comforted by the Headmaster when he stepped out to get her some water. As he waited for the nurse at the nearby station to get him a glass, he felt a firm grip on his shoulder and whirled about in surprise, hand on his wand tight.

"It's me," Harry whispered and removed the Invisibility Cloak from around his shoulders, looking around to make sure no one saw his entrance.

Draco snarled and turned away. "What the fuck are you doing here, Potter?" he growled under his breath. "Get lost."

The other wizard was silent for a bit, so Draco looked out of the corner of his eye at him. Green, piercing eyes stared back at him somberly. "I'm sorry for your loss, Malfoy. I really am," he offered his sincere condolences. Draco was about to hex him all to hell for such pity when his next words stopped him cold. "And I know what you plan to do now. I want to help you go after them."

Before Draco could reply, the nurse's shoes could be heard clacking their way towards them. Potter immediately drew the cloak back over himself and then the lady turned the corner, water glass in hand. "Here you go," she offered, passing the cup to him.

He mumbled his thanks and walked back to his mother. She was seated in the small waiting alcove on a comfortable looking blue corduroy couch, hunched into her old Headmaster's shoulder and quietly crying. He knelt down beside her and passed her the water, all the while thinking about Potter's offer. It's not like he hated Harry anymore; quite the opposite. They'd worked together during the war, and the guy had even helped clear his name to the Wizengamot (and as a result of the deal he'd made with the Ministry prior, so long as he'd gone free, his father's way out of Azkaban had been guaranteed). And throughout his relationship with Hermione, Draco had come to slowly consider Potter as something better than an acquaintance. If the guy was truly offering to help, he'd be a powerful ally, he knew.

"Drink it all, mother," he directed. As she did as bade, he turned to the Headmaster. "I want to take her home now, if you don't mind. And I'd like to stay with her while we make… preparations. A few weeks. I'll make up my class work over winter break."

He didn't look his Professor in the eye and carefully concealed his plans in his mind behind that gray wall of fog he'd been taught by, ironically enough, his loony aunt, just in case the old wizard attempted Legilimency on him. He plastered a neutral expression on his features as well, not wanting to give his emotions away. Still, he could feel Dumbledore stare into his very soul, and he flushed, the heat rising under his cheeks unbidden.

"Perhaps I should accompany you," the Headmaster offered.

"I'll go with Malfoy, Professor," Potter stated, suddenly appearing to Draco's right. He put a friendly arm on the blond's shoulder. "I don't think the Ministry would mind, given the situation. Besides, the other students will need you now more than ever. And I can make up my school work during the break, too."

Dumbledore's blue gaze snagged Harry, but Potter simply stared back, completely at ease, seemingly as innocent of intent as a virgin. After long minutes, the Headmaster nodded. "I'll contact the Order and the Minister of the change in plans, of course." He turned his full attention on Draco. "I leave you in the care of Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy. I expect you'll be good enough to check in should you require assistance – with any arrangements, that is. Oh, and I'd like you to return to Hogwarts as soon as your… business… is concluded. We'll have much to discuss about any… make-up work."

He knew. The old man was no idiot. But he also realized that at seventeen, Draco was of legal adult age in the wizarding world now – as was Potter - and as such, they both could drop out of school anytime they wished. Dumbledore could not hold him, specifically, on anything aside from the Ministry's terms of his probation - which it sounded as if he intended on getting revoked by Shacklebolt himself. The Headmaster apparently approved of his plans, and had even slyly offered the Order of Phoenix's help – help Draco would not turn away.

In an unusual show of great respect, he stood and executed a formal bow at the waist to his maestro with sincere gratitude. "I give you my word, sir."

Dumbledore sighed heavily, suddenly looking very much his long years – however old he actually was, and nodded to them. "Good luck to you, then." With that, he turned back to Narcissa and whispered his repeated offer to call upon him should she need anything. Graciously, Draco's mother thanked the Headmaster for his kindness and for being here for both she and her family, and promised to owl him should there be need. Finally, seeing no further want for his presence, the Headmaster stood and made his way out of the lobby and down the hall, towards the stairwell.

X~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~X

Hermione and Ginny whispered the name of every candy they knew, and finally it was "opal fruit" that did the trick, opening the Headmaster's stairs for them (apparently, their Professor liked Muggle sweets as well!). They rode to the top, then snuck into the main office and looked about. The portraits of the old Headmasters and Headmistresses were snoring away; not a one seemed to be awake at this hour. Creeping as quietly and stealthily as they could towards the very back of the office, to the fireplace set into the wall in the small corridor behind the Headmaster's desk, they made their way. As they passed Fawkes' empty perch, Ginny accidentally nudged it, causing it to almost tip over. It was only the girl's quick Quidditch reflexes that allowed her to catch the metal rim and right the roost without disturbing the portraits.

They took the short steps down once they cleared the Headmaster's desk, and prepared themselves, each grabbing a handful of the green powder from the kettle set against the wall. Hermione went first. She stepped into the hearth, called out "St. Mungo's Hospital" and threw the powder down. With a woosh and a pulling sensation, she landed in the front lobby of the health service, near the emergency ward, stepping out of the newly connected Floo Network portal. Ginny was half a minute behind her, appearing in a flash of brilliant emerald.

The nurse's station was only a few steps away, so Hermione approached and requested the floor and room location for Lucius Malfoy. Concerned with her patient's privacy and rights, she asked Hermione and Ginny's relationship to the attended. Crossing her fingers behind her back, Hermione stated that she was his daughter-in-law, and Ginny his niece. Raising a doubting eyebrow, the practitioner reluctantly told them that the Mr. Malfoy had been given a private suite on the Fourth Floor, where unliftable jinxes and hexes were handled.

Hurrying away, the girls dashed down the corridor, only to have the nurse holler at them to walk, not run. Hermione took the stairs at the end two at a time, huffing and puffing with serious effort by the time she'd gotten to the second level, not used to the physical exertion of climbing; Ginny was doing far better, given her Quidditch endurance training. When they got to the Third Floor, they ran into the Headmaster coming down. Out of breath and with a racing heart, Hermione hunched over and put her head between her knees to keep herself from blacking out, while Ginny explained their presence at the hospital to their teacher. After the longest-winded excuse in history (thus giving Hermione time to recover, so she could throw in her two cents at the end), Dumbledore gave them both a reproving gaze, and merely cleared his throat. The two girls remained silent as the Headmaster considered them.

Her nerves strung out, Hermione reached into her shirt and pulled out the Time-Turner. "Professor, couldn't we possibly…?"

Narrowed, sapphire eyes stared long and hard at the magical device around her neck. Clearly intrigued by the idea, Dumbledore reached out an old, lined hand and let his fingers caress the hourglass portion tentatively, but, with a deep sigh, he immediately shook his head. Whatever previous hope Hermione had harbored was suddenly dashed. "It will let you to know when its use is necessary," he explained sadly. "Now appears not to be the right time."

Hermione knew this was true from experience, as all through her third-year, the Time-Turner would give off heat and a sort of strange buzzy feeling in her head to let her know to use it (the insistent 'calling' of the item, coupled with her increased work load and all of the stresses she was dealing with that year with Harry and Ron is what drove her mad, and made her turn the item back in to McGonagall finally). But this time, it had been completely different. The device had remained silent for most of the school year. In fact, it hadn't gone off at all except to alert her to Teddy's suicide and the morning she and Draco had been alone in her room. Unlike with Teddy's situation, however, she'd ignored its 'call' that last time. Had that screwed things up?

She asked the Professor this exact question, letting him know the circumstances of her use of the Time-Turner this year (minus, of course, the details surrounding what she and Draco had _actually_ been doing on her bed when the mysterious stranger had come knocking on her door). A bushy, white eyebrow raised in concern. "When was that exactly?" he asked.

She blushed, trying not to let her thoughts become visual images that projected outwards. "A few weeks ago. Early November. The sixth, I believe." She lifted the heavy, gold ornament and read the inscription around the two hollow circles again. "It's been cold ever since, though. I wonder if it isn't broken or something."

"No Time-Turner has ever malfunctioned before," her teacher murmured, but his scrunched face and eyes said he was seriously considering the possibility. He blinked and his face cleared immediately. "In any case, Miss Granger, I believe you were on your way up to see Mr. Malfoy." He put a steadying hand on her shoulder and gave her a somber stare. "His father has just recently passed, so he and his mother might not be in the most congenial mood for your visit. I hope you will find it in you to forgive them for any… hurtful words. It will be the grief talking." He smiled reassuringly at her. "They both have need of your Gryffindor strength and devotion now."

Hermione nodded in understanding, her worst fears confirmed. Lucius Malfoy had died before dawn, just as Snape had pronounced. Her heart ached for her love.

Dumbledore turned to Ginny next. "Oh, and Mr. Potter is here as well. I believe you were looking for him as well?" It was phrased as a question, but was obviously a statement of knowledge, as verified by the shrewd glance and significant smile he threw the little redhead. Ginny had the grace to blush. "Well then, I must be off," he commented casually, heading past them down the stairs. After a few steps down, he stopped and turned, looking up at both girls. "Oh, and although I know you to still be underage, Miss Weasley, I believe Miss Granger will take full responsibility for you and assure your immediate return to the castle." He made it clear they were not to be pussying around. "By floo, to my office."

_Oh, foot!_ Hermione thought. He wasn't going to let it slide that they'd broken school rules to come here. She swallowed and nodded, seeing Ginny do similarly beside her.

Their teacher continued on his way down, carefully lifting the hem of his long wizard's robe as he stepped so as not to trip on it. Hermione and Ginny turned and continued bolting up the next flight of stairs to the fourth level. Pulling open the door, they spied the two Aurors standing guard across the hall from a closed door and knew it was Lucius Malfoy's private suite.

Hermione turned to ask one of the Aurors if it would be appropriate for her to check on the Malfoy family, when a hand landed on his arm and stopped her. She turned to find a sober Harry staring at her. "Harry!" Ginny squealed and threw herself into her boyfriend's arms. "You worried me, you dolt!" He hugged the little redhead tightly to him, but gave Hermione a serious look over her shoulder and shook his head. Then, he indicated with a nudge of his chin where she could find Draco, further down the hall. She nodded in thanks and headed where indicated. She got three steps past her friends before she stopped.

Draco stood outside the entry way of the floor's small lobby, staring at her. His eyes were flat, detached, his jaw set, his exhausted face devoid of emotion. Her feet moved without thought, her body drawn to him. When she was but a few steps away, she stopped, staring up at his impassive features, swallowing back her trepidation. "I know you didn't want me coming, but…" she hurriedly told him, not wanting to upset him further, feeling her heart pounding a mile a minute. "Won't you let me…? Draco, _please_ let me be here for you.""

His mask cracked, his eyes bleeding with pain and something akin to relief. He closed the distance between them in one stride and drew her into his fierce embrace. "I love you," he professed in a choked voice. "I love you more than the world, Hermione." He kissed her deeply. When he pulled back and put his forehead to hers, she felt the spark in her soul that said they'd just reached one of those relationship crossroads that decided something important between them long-term and that it had been a _good_ change.

Cupping her cheek, he gazed into her eyes, holding back his tears by the narrowest of narrows. "Come with me back to the Manor. Be with me this week."

Pulling all her courage up, Hermione nodded, holding the man she loved as close to her as physically possible. She would be Draco's shelter and his strength now, and she would help him to do the most difficult thing a person could ever do: say goodbye to a loved one.

_**

* * *

****AUTHOR'S NOTES:**_

**- Baron of Swindon = Swindon is a borough in Wiltshire, where Malfoy Manor is located. This Baroncy doesn't really exist (I made it up). And yes, I'm directly inferring that The Bloody Baron is related to the Malfoy family lineage for the sake of this fic.**

_**- Je t'aime, Adieu**_** = French for "I Love You, Goodbye" (the hyphenated version of **_**Je tu aime**_**, literally translated as "I You Love"). **_**Adieu**_** (**_**A Dieu**_** when broken down into its components) means 'To God' literally, and is a forever farewell, in contrast to **_**Au Revoir**_** which means "To See Again." The choice of terms is intentional in this case.**

**I would like to apologize for taking a little longer than expected to put this set of chapters out. I have to admit that Chapter 19, in particular, was hard for me to write, as I recently had to bury my elderly father (who died in a hospital bed earlier last year… which is what kicked off my desire to play around on the internet instead of doing work initially, and with my daughter's repeated urging, led to me discovering this website – ironic, really). Reliving the memories of my da's passing – in an effort to correctly convey what was happening to Lucius in Chapter 19 - was really, truly emotionally challenging. There were days I couldn't stand to look at this story, and it sat untouched for at least two of them as a result.**

_**MUCHO, MUCHO GRACIAS**_** to ****UNSEENLIBRARIAN**** for her brilliant counsel! UL, your well-conceived point-counter point advice on the merits of the plot's ultimate direction made me realize that ****a writer's job is to tell the story as it was meant to be written****, and not to bow to the whims of one's own personal need for comfort and safety. I owe you, my dear, for renewing my flagging spirits with your kind encouragement and for keeping my story crafting honest.**

**Additionally, THANK YOU READERS for your continued support and kind reviews. I'd love to hear your thoughts on this newest set of chapters, so if you have the desire and the time, please do feel free to let me know whether you like what you've read or not. I take all comments to heart. **


	11. Chapters 20 and 21

_**CHAPTER 20: FALL OUT**_

_**The Daily Prophet Headquarters, Diagon Alley, London, England**_

_**& Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland, **_

_**& Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire, England**_

_**Monday, November 24, 1997 **_

The head editor at _The Daily Prophet_, Barnabas Cuffe, zipped across his office, located in the heart of Diagon Alley, and legged it for his star scamp reporter, Betty Braithwaite (now that Rita Skeeter had been discovered to be an unregistered Animagus and had been put on a magical one-year house arrest by the Ministry… and summarily disgraced by Braithwaite, her one-time sycophant, for the scandal).

"Want the second story of the century, darling?" he teased Betty, sitting on the edge of her desk with a folded note between two fingers. Everyone knew _the_ story of the century had been Voldemort's downfall and nothing would quite compare, but this one, he thought, would be equally as stunning.

Betty raised one black penciled eyebrow, brushing her chin-length Betty Paige hairstyle (purposefully chosen for the similarities in first name, Barnabas knew) back, and smacked her magenta painted lips dramatically. "Of course, luv," she smiled seductively. "Show me yours, and…" She sat back in her chair and uncrossed her legs, making sure her short mini gave him an adequate view of the tops of her garters. "I'll show you mine."

Barnabas was gayer than a jaybird, but he loved the charged verbal sparring with Betty. It was something they both got off on. He gave her a challenging smirk. "Really, dear, unless you've got a schlong the size of a Nimbus 2001 hidden away under that skirt, you'll have to offer me something better."

A wicked smirk wound up the side of Betty's face. "How about the address of a personal friend of mine? Tall, dark hair, gorgeous blue eyes. Member of the Falmouth Falcons – a Beater. _Rough_ bunch, that group. Butters his bread on both sides… _with jam_."

Barnabas' interest was definitely piqued. He dropped the note on her desk. "I want a proper introduction to Mr. Rough-n-Tumble this week." He hopped off her desk and straightened his robes, wiping away flecks of imaginary dust. "And I want that story in tonight's _Evening Prophet_, darling!" he firmly stated, walking backwards slowly towards his office down the aisle. "And a follow-up piece every day this week, including the Sunday edition."

He watched as Betty eagerly grabbed for the note, opened it, read it twice and smiled maliciously. "I'm seriously in love with you right now Barnabas Cuffe!" she turned and announced fiercely to his retreating form, enthusiastically whooping in delight. "Meet me here tonight at seven. I'll owl our boy for us to meet for dinner in the Alley. He's into dosh, so bring your wallet and dress _sharp_."

"Don't I always, darling?" he turned smoothly and retreated once more to his office, waving over his shoulder at her.

X~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~X

Hermione floo'd back to Dumbledore's office with Ginny in tow, as the Headmaster had requested. She had some things to gather in her room and arrangements to make with her teachers before she returned to Draco's side at his Manor House, anyway. Harry, it turned out, was right behind him, coming to speak with their Professor as well. Draco took his mother immediately back to his home once he'd seen Hermione off in the floo network.

"Sir," Hermione began as soon as she'd seen her teacher. "I'm going to stay at Malfoy Manor for the week. I was requested personally." It wasn't a request, and they both knew it. She was of age now, and Hermione had proved herself time and again to be trustworthy – including jaunting around last year and earlier this year looking for the Horcruxes with Harry and Ron unchaperoned. In this one thing, she expected her professor to understand, as he seemed to understand her relationship with Draco was somewhat serious (at least, from the way he'd looked at and spoken to her back at the hospital, she _surmised_ he knew). Still, she felt the need to reassure the Headmaster of her intentions. "I believe Draco and Lady Malfoy will both need someone to help with the funeral arrangements, handling the press when they come knocking, and assuring things get done around the house during the week – meals, dishes, laundry, that sort of thing. I'll work with their house elves."

Dumbledore raised a white, bushy eyebrow at her. "And what of your studies, Miss Granger?"

She had expected this query, of course. "I'll bring my books and owl my assignments. I'm already far ahead of the reading in all my subjects so missing this week won't put me behind a bit."

Giving her a measuring look, she felt as if her teacher were reading into her very soul. After seconds ticked by in silence, he nodded once, trusting her. "I'll expect your work to be on time, Miss Granger. As Head Girl, you have a responsibility to your duties here first."

She nodded firmly. "Yes, sir. Not a day late, sir. I promise. And I'll make sure the planning for the Yule Ball and weekly Prefect schedules are handled before I leave today, sir."

"See you do," the Headmaster conceded. "And feel free to borrow Binky, if you wish." He smiled slightly as her eyes widened in surprise. "I know you and she have an excellent relationship with food preparation already." Hermione blushed hotly. Apparently, her teacher knew she'd had Binky preparing late night snacks that were sent to her room. She wondered if that meant he also knew why.

Turning ancient, worried eyes on her best male friend, who was just dusting himself off after arriving seconds earlier, Dumbledore dismissed her. "Now if you'd be so kind as to escort Miss Weasley back to her Common Room, Miss Granger, I'd like a word alone with Mr. Potter."

She nodded and the two girls moved off, but not before she gave a questioning glance to Harry. She couldn't help wondering why he'd gone to the hospital in the first place. It wasn't as if he and Draco were friends, per se, although he had loaned her boyfriend the Invisibility Cloak that week she was in hospital. Perhaps they were _becoming_ friends, then. That would be quite nice.

After dropping Ginny off at Gryffindor Tower, and seeking out Ernie to discuss Head Girl-Boy duties (including getting an update on the dance and setting the nightly patrols), she went to the kitchens to get Binky. After her elf friend packed her meager supplies (a small, locked satchel containing her favorite things), they made their way up to her room.

Her bed was still rumpled and the coverlet and pillow lay on the couch where she'd left them. With a snap of her fingers, Binky disapparated the half-eaten tray of snacks that lay on the end table forgotten. Hermione went to make up her bed when she noted the smallish blood stain smeared across her sheets. Had it really just been a little less than a day and a half ago that she and Draco had… She touched the mark, getting a happy flutter in her belly. She'd be alone with Draco in his house this whole week. Would they do this again?

Gah! She was there to comfort him during his time of grief, not to think about sex! She chided herself on the inappropriateness level she'd just been contemplating, and removing the sheets from her bed, put them down the chute to be laundered. Then, she packed up a week's worth of clothes and toiletries (okay, and yes, she packed a few pieces of lingerie, just in case Draco really needed some 'comforting'), made sure her Snitch and Time-Turner necklaces were firmly around her neck, and then took Binky's hand.

"Are you sure you can apparate us to Malfoy Manor?" she asked the little house elf nervously. "I thought nothing could apparate in or out of the castle wards."

Binky nodded enthusiastically. "Oh, yes, miss. Us elves can apparate anywhere in the worlds we wants."

"Even if you've never been there?" she inquired, fidgeting now. "Maybe we should floo instead?"

The house elf laughed cheerfully. "Binky has been to Malfoy Manor. Binky used to work there with Dobby, but was boughts earlier this year and cames to Hogwarts!"

"Okay, I'll give you that. But can you take others with you when you apparate?" she asked, gripping her luggage handle tightly, feeling the perspiration dew the palm of her hand. "What if I get splinched?" She swallowed loudly in fear.

The little house elf shook her head firmly and readjusted her satchel on her back. "No, miss, that won't happens. We'll make sure of it!"

With a second snapping motion, and with her hand firmly in Binky's, they apparated to Draco's home. The time was close to eleven a.m. then.

X~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~X

Having missed his morning class, and woken with a bout of the shakes that had him fumbling for his medicinal vials like some sort of potion junkie, Teddy made his way up to the Great Hall to try for a late lunch. It was now almost one o'clock. He had just enough time to grab a bite before rushing off to Ancient Runes Lecture. He'd grab a little more food and owl Drake during the one-hour break period he had between that class and Arithmancy Lecture, which started at three. Then it was Astronomy Lecture from four to five, and he would be free for the remainder of the evening – when he intended on tracking down Astoria and getting Daphne's story from her.

He sat alone, as usual, at Slytherin's table, but was quickly joined by Harry Potter, who navigated through the throngs of students now leaving the hall to sit down across from him. "You've heard?" he asked hesitantly, knowing Teddy was friends with Draco.

He sighed. "Last night. Is Draco's father…?"

Harry nodded sadly. "This morning he passed. Hermione's with Malfoy and his mum now at their Manor House. She's spending the week there with them to help with the funeral."

Teddy felt a small stab of pain for his friend's loss (losing a parent was an extremely difficult thing, he knew first hand), and another over the fact that Drake and Hermione would be practically all alone in that large house together. If they weren't already having sex, they would be by the end of the week. He despised himself for even thinking that way in the moment, because he knew his best friend needed her right now, more than ever, and it was obvious that they were in love. It shouldn't bother him still that they were together. "I see," he replied evenly. "I'm going to owl him this afternoon with my sympathies."

Harry nodded. "All of us are going to, too," he indicated a nudge of his chin over to his table. "Well, many of us, anyway. We're putting in a collection, for flowers to be sent. Do you want to contribute?"

Teddy nodded. "Of course. How much do you need?"

Harry considered it. "Whatever you feel comfortable giving."

"I'll get it to you by tonight," he promised.

Harry stood, and gave him a nod in appreciation. "See you then," he offered, and took two steps to lead off before stopping and turning back. "You can always sit with us any time, you know," he offered. "You're a friend."

Teddy blinked, surprised. "Am I?"

Harry gave him a small smile, his green eyes gleaming in the artificial sunny day that someone had enchanted the dining hall ceiling to reflect. "Yeah, you are."

He left Teddy contemplating that last thought as he chewed on his tuna sandwich and crisps.

X~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~X

Hermione appeared with a crack in Draco's kitchens, shocked to see such a large, opulent space for the preparation of food. It was half the size of the one at Hogwarts, but for a domestic residence, it was freaking huge. She whirled about as Binky let go of her hand and wandered away to locate the head house elf in the small throng of bodies that were currently running to and fro trying to prepare a luncheon for, presumably, Draco and his mother. She followed Binky, wanting a word with the head elf.

They stopped before an elderly, stooped female elf wearing a wrinkled green dress that fell to her knobby knees. "Lubby, I's is reporting for duty, m'am!" Binky snapped a sharp salute at the head elf. "I's brings Miss Hermione Granger to sees you, too. She's Master Draco's girl."

Every elf in the kitchen stopped and stared. Hermione felt as if she were suddenly naked in this room full of three-foot midgets with bug eyes. It was quite disconcerting to find herself at the attention of so many and for such a reason.

Lubby, for all her advanced years, moved remarkably fast. She was suddenly ushering another elf to put down the pitcher of tea he was preparing and take Hermione's luggage. "Ups to the guest room, next to the young Master," Lubby commanded, and with a crack, the other elf was gone – as was her bag. "Does the Missus have any special requests?" she then asked, turning old, rummy eyes on her. "Special foods, meal times, bath preparations?"

Hermione shook her head. "Well, no. Anything you do will be wonderful, I'm sure."

Lubby closed one eye and peeked up at her with the other one pointedly, looking her up and down. "Binky will serve yous during your stay, Missus."

Hermione knew it was pointless to argue about serving her, and since she was a guest in this house, she had no right to disturb the order of things – especially during this time. So, she simply swallowed her displeasure and nodded. "May I ask: do you know the fate of your Master yet?"

Lubby nodded. "We hears from the young Master Draco. We's is preparing all of Lady Mistress Narcissa's favorites for lunch and dinner."

Hermione nodded, pleased with the idea. "That's very kind of you, Lubby. And everyone. Thank you for trying to make things easier for them."

The old house elf looked at her as if this was naturally to be expected, which, upon consideration, it probably was, as she'd heard from Dobby how demanding the Malfoys used to be with their help.

Binky led her up to the Drawing Room, where she was told Draco would be found and sent to her. A few minutes later, he appeared at the door and the two rushed at each other, meeting somewhere in the middle with arms thrown wide about each other. He pressed his face into her neck and inhaled, and she did likewise into his collar, scenting his dark cherry and port wine familiar spice. They held on for long minutes, not talking, simply taking strength from each other's presence.

"I'm glad you came," he admitted, whispering softly in her ear. "I'm sorry I kept you away."

She shook her head slightly. "I understand, but Draco…" She pulled back to look him in the eye, touching his cheek gently. "I'll always be there for you. No matter what you need. I love you."

He closed his eyes and leaned into her palm, kissing it. "I love you, too," he murmured.

Swallowing her fear, she asked the hard question next. "Your mother, is she… in need of anything?"

Arctic grey peeked at her from under blond lashes. "She's in her room right now, sleeping. The hospital gave us some Sleeping Draughts, Draughts of Peace and Restoratives before we left. A week's worth at least."

She nodded in understanding. "I'm glad. Maybe they'll help." She sniffed sadly. "The elves in the kitchen are making all of her favorites for lunch and dinner."

He looked surprised. "You've already gone to talk to the house elves?" He raised an eyebrow at her. "You didn't try to convince any of them to leave, did you?"

Hermione's lip quivered as she tried to suppress a smile. "No, of course not. This isn't the time for that sort of thing."

Swooping down to hover over her lips he gave her a knowing smirk. "But later, when this is all over, you'll try."

She simply shrugged, not denying nor admitting to anything. It was safer that way.

Draco pressed a small kiss to her lips. "You're becoming more Slytherin every day, sweetheart. I think I like it."

She cleared her throat, and as she did, her stomach rumbled in response. Embarrassed, her hands flew to cover her abdomen. Draco chuckled. "It's always about the food with you." He grabbed her hand and dragged her out the door into the corridor. "Come on, let's get you fed before you pass out on me."

He led her to the dining room where, after calling for Binky, the two of them ate the meal that had been prepared for Narcissa (who was in la-la land at the moment, and wouldn't awaken until tonight sometime, Draco assured her). It was a delicious duck a l'orange served on a bed of wild rice with raisins and nuts in, with a garnish of green beans almondine to the side. For dessert, there was lemon sorbet with a mint leaf on top. It was the most extravagant thing Hermione had ever eaten, and the most delicious. She asked Binky to pass on her compliments to the kitchen staff, and Draco instructed the house elf to bring dinner to the table at eight o'clock that night.

After lunch, Draco took her around the house on a tour which ended with his bedroom. It was a grand room, fit to be a four-star hotel's suite, and it was precisely how she imagined it would be. "Very original," she dryly stated, taking in the plush, dark green carpet, black satin bedding, and sheer, silvery canopy fabric. Dark chestnut wooden furniture, silver framed oil paintings, and various decorative pieces about the room accessorized perfectly. In front of his large hearth was a long, black leather couch with dark green and silver fabric throw pillows tossed haphazardly upon it. His attached bath was black, grey and white marble, and the tub was ginormous – big enough for six, and deep enough on one end to come up to her neck, at least. A bubble fountain adorned its faucets. His walk-in closet was large enough for two time zones, and it was lined with fashionable shirts, jumpers, robes, ties in every color and cut imaginable, and even had a sock, shoe and cufflink set of drawers.

"Tell me you don't have a disco light hidden somewhere," she joked.

Draco raised an eyebrow in questioning. "What's that then?"

She shook her head, realizing to whom she was speaking. "A Muggle light with crystalline fractures in it that hangs from the ceiling. It turns around and… creates sexy ambiance." She grinned as his face pulled up into a look of appalled disbelief. "It's a chick magnet. Pathetic bachelors seeking blonde bimbos for an evening of frivolity often use it."

With a shake of his head, Draco shrugged nonchalantly. "Ah, then I'd have no need for such a device. One, I'm into brunettes, not blondes. Two, I'm already a chick magnet unto myself."

She stopped, her jaw hanging open. "You are so full of yourself sometimes, you know that?"

He nodded unashamedly. "Yes, but you love me. What does that say about your taste in boyfriends?"

She tsk'd, shaking her head playfully. "That I'm a candidate for the loony bin for wanting you so much."

He stopped and his face changed in a flash. "Wanting me, huh?" he repeated her in a low, soft voice. His eyes roamed over the Muggle clothes she'd thrown on that morning in her room before apparating away. She was in a pair of snug, dark jeans, wearing a form-fitting red jumper and her trainers. She hadn't had much time for her hair, so she'd put it up in a pony tail after combing through it. She wasn't wearing make-up. All-in-all, she looked rather unimpressive. At least, that's what she thought.

He slowly pulled the closet door shut on them and stalked towards her. Hermione couldn't help it; instinctively, she backed up with every step he took, wary of the lustful gaze he was throwing her way. She stopped when her shoulders touched the three way lighted mirror at the end. Draco casually pressed both palms on the reflective surface to either side of her head and leaned down, his face deadly serious suddenly. He stared at her with blatant desire, his steely eyes latched onto hers, refusing to let go. "Forget the bedroom next door. You're sleeping in my room every night you're here, Granger," he pronounced, and her heart skipped three beats at the predatory look in his eye. "And while you're here, I'm going to fuck you… a lot."

She licked her lips in part anticipation, part trepidation. This side of Draco was a little scary, but compelling.

He moved in. "Starting now," he noted just before sweeping his mouth down over hers and capturing her in a blazing, wet kiss. She let him seduce her, knowing he needed her body right now as much as she needed his. Last night had been agonizingly painful for both of them – more so for him, obviously – and some life-affirming sex right then was definitely a good idea. Playing the passive role, since Draco obviously needed to dominate at the moment (possibly because he was feeling so helpless in other aspects of his life, she'd guessed), she let him remove all her clothes and the Time-Turner (he kept on the necklace he'd given her, though, she noted), until she finally stood naked before him. She let him pull her back from the mirror and turn her about so she had to look at herself. When she blushed and shied away, he forced her chin up, standing behind her and whispering into her ear that she was to watch them; she was not to take her eyes off of what he was going to do to her.

When his fingers lightly brushed over her nipples, they peaked and she gasped at the electric sensation. "So beautiful," he murmured, nuzzling her neck, leaving sucking, wet kisses on her flesh. "So sexy." She arched against his palms, and their eyes connected in the mirror. "You're all mine now, Granger," he muttered, pressing a kiss to her temple. "I'm not giving you up. _You're mine._"

He pinched her breasts, tugging on them, causing an ache in her womb at the movement. "For as long as you want, Draco, yes," she sighed in pleasure.

He bent his head and nipped her earlobe, his hands smoothing down her belly towards her kitty. "Even forever?" he asked, dipping one finger into the top of her slit, rubbing her clit.

She closed her eyes and nodded. "Yes."

He continued to rub her clit as he whispered in her ear. "Do you mean that?" He licked her all up and down her throat.

"Keep doing this to me and yes, I'll mean it," she reiterated, gripping his hips behind her as he worked his magic on her around the front.

"I see," he narrowed his eyes in playful consideration. "So, I have to keep you sexually satisfied for you to want me, then?"

She shook her head, then nodded, then shook again.

"Which is it, baby?" he asked teasingly, swiping his fingers down lower to her entrance, feeling her drenched opening. An arrogant, knowing grin wound up his face. "Yes or no?"

Her brain was in a haze of pleasure, unable to think of anything but what he was doing to her. "Yes, I think… I'm not sure… I can't think. _Draco…_"

Two fingers entered her from below, and her thighs began quaking. She held onto his hips for dear life, watching as his hand moved rhythmically in the mirror. "So, it's yes, that you want me forever, but no to the stipulation that staying with me is predicated on me keeping you pleased in bed. Is that right?"

She bit her lip, as his fingers began an enticing swirling pattern at her entrance while his thumb followed on her clit. "I… _mmmmm_… _oooohhh_… What?"

"You know what I think, Granger?" he asked in a seductive whisper. "I think we were meant to be, from almost the very beginning. That's probably why I hated you so much. You were everything I was told to despise, and yet by Fourth Year, I think I knew you were everything I would ever want." He removed his fingers, pressed them to her lips, slipped them in between the crack and made her taste herself. It was salty, like she remembered, but only lightly so, and there was a little lemony tang to it. She sucked and licked until his fingers were clean, and he watched her the whole time, his eyes hot on her reflection. Against her back, his erection was straining. "And you," he bit her earlobe, removing his fingers from her and trailing them back down to her breasts, taking them fully in his hands and rubbing them in tight circles, "I think you like being daring and naughty, and you know I'm the only one who will let you be that way – as much as you want. And I'll love you for it as well."

She met his gaze in the mirror, and swallowed hard at what she saw staring back at her. He was right about it all. He knew her better than she knew herself now. That kind of power over her was a little frightening, honestly.

"Say you want me to fuck you now," he bid in a low, dark voice, his eyes never leaving hers in the glass.

She swallowed hard. "I… want you to fuck me now, Draco."

With a smirk of triumph, he gently moved them forward and pressed the palms of her hands against the mirror, tilting her over at the waist. "Don't move," he directed her, and then began stripping down, tossing his clothes to the side without care, until he was fully naked, too. Stepping back so that his hot flesh touched hers from behind, he reached down and lifted her right leg under his right forearm, pulling it up until her knee was even with her hips. Bending slightly, he positioned himself at her entrance. "Guide me in and watch," he commanded her, and her right hand automatically moved between her legs to his shaft, lining them up perfectly and inserted his crown into her entrance. When her arm moved back up to the mirror, he grabbed a hold of her left hip, the other hand still holding her right leg in the air and he shoved hard up into her, splitting her open again. She cried out at the momentary pain of the intrusion, her body still not used to being used for sex, but he didn't stop this time when she protested. Instead, he pulled out and pushed back in several more times - just as hard and fast as the first thrust - until she stretched to accommodate his size once more.

When her mewls of pain changed to gasps of growing excitement, he slowed down, pulling all the way out until the tip of him teased her entrance, and then slowly glided back in. "Do you see, Hermione?" He lulled her with sibilant whispers. "See how we fit perfectly?" He buried himself to the hilt inside. Below, his sack hung heavy and tight between them. "You take me all in - every bit."

Her cheeks were scalding hot, her mouth was parted in desire, and her breath came quick as her eyes were riveted to what he was doing to her. She hadn't actually ever seen this before. She'd seen some soft porn images in the lingerie shop in France, true, but none of those images had shown a man's penis actually moving in and out of a woman. This was the hottest thing she'd ever witnessed.

Her gasps were loud in the enclosed space as his pace sped up incrementally. She felt her body reaching for a release. It didn't take long. "Yes, yes, _yes!_" she cried out as he was now plunging into her from below, thoroughly making sure he pressed all the way into her with each shove.

"Tell me to fuck you harder," he commanded, his breathing equally as harsh.

"Yes, oh, _yes_," she whimpered. "Harder, Draco. Yes, _fuck me __harder__!_" she wailed, right on the edge. He gave her what she wanted, slamming into her with full force. The angle was just right, the imagery perfect, and with a final, loud gasp, she came in a blinding flash of color behind her eyelids. Deep inside, everything tensed, pulsated, rippled, and lightning shot up through her spine into her brain, pooling back down into her womb in seconds.

"I'm going to come in you, Granger," he rasped in her ear, leaning in to bite her on her throat. "Deep inside of you. Make you mine again." He grunted, his hot breath burning into her shoulder, as he pressed his forehead to the bend between there and her neck. "_Fuck_, I love you!" he gasped. With that, he orgasmed, groaning loudly as he shot his seed. Warmth flooded her channel. In the mirror, she watched his body thrust again and again as he emptied himself into her.

When he'd ridden his bliss to its end, with a great series of exhalations, he let her leg drop down and leaned over her back, wrapping his arms about her middle. He began kissing her spine tiredly, and all the while, she stayed in place, too numb to move. After he'd regained mastery of his body, Draco _Accio_'d his wand from the floor, pressed it to her tummy and performed the anti-conception charm. It was only then that the fog lifted and she remembered: as long as they did the spell within an hour of having sex, she would be fine.

With a growl, she got her balance under her and shoved him off. He slid out of her easily. "You could have at least reminded me of the spell to prevent pregnancy. I was really scared there for a few seconds at the end," she huffed.

Draco blinked, obviously not expecting her ire, and reached for her as she tried to slip past him. He wrapped his arms about her again, pulling her against his chest. She felt his wet, exhausted length pressed against her bellybutton, already felt his fluids sliding out of her and down the inside of her left thigh. "You should know to trust me," he murmured in her ear, sounding a little hurt. "I would never do anything to physically hurt you." He pulled back and looked her dead in the eye, feathering his fingers over her right cheek. "You know that, don't you?"

She nodded and sighed. "I just wasn't thinking clearly. I'd forgotten about what you told me about the charm." She suppressed an unexpected yawn behind one hand. "Oh, excuse me!" she apologized. "I'm just so tired."

With that excuse, the reasons for her exhaustion came crashing back in on them both. Realizing her faux pas too late, she felt Draco stiffen against her and tried to fix it. "Can we lie down in your bed together?" she asked, wrapping her arms about his neck and nuzzling his long, pale throat, tickling his soft platinum hair in between her fingers.

He paused, and then nodded. They released each other and she wiped her thigh off immediately, trying to be discreet about it. They walked out of the closet into the main room, and she slipped under the black satin covers as Draco made sure the door to his room was locked. The temperature was very cool against her overheated skin as the chilly fabric slid over her nipples and legs, so Draco waved his wand towards the fireplace and got a cheery flame started. Within minutes, the room was warm. He put his wand down on the bedside table and set it to buzz them at six o'clock. Then, he joined Hermione in the center of the giant mattress, pulled the covers over them both and wrapped his arms about her as she lay her cheek on his chest.

After a few seconds, she heard a rumble of a small chuckle escape his lips. Looking up she gave him an inquisitive look. "What?"

He smiled down at her. "I just realized that we sleep together perfect, too."

"How do you mean?" she asked, confused by this strange comment.

"You prefer the right, I prefer the left," he stated the obvious. "Same as on your couch at school… and your bed. I just didn't realize it before."

She smiled and pressed a kiss to Draco's lips. "I guess we _were_ meant to be then, huh?" With that, she laid her head back down and closed her eyes, drifting off into sleep almost immediately within the warmth and safety of her lover's arms.

X~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~X

Astoria was in the library studying after dinner at a table full of mixed-house Fifth Years. He tapped her on the shoulder. "May I speak to you in private?" he asked, and she blinked, looking a little surprised. Across the table from her, Jason Swann made an "Oooooh," and waggled his eyebrows teasingly. Teddy felt compelled to defend the girl's honor.

"Get your mind out of the gutter and back into your books, kid," he slammed Swann hard in front of the others. "You're going to need every study second to pass your OWLs, I hear."

Face tinged crimson, Jason Swann threw him a nasty, threatening look. Teddy just stared back, undaunted. He faced death daily, literally. Nothing scared him anymore.

Astoria scooted back her chair and gathered her things. "See you guys later," she waved and fell into step beside Teddy as they made their way out of the library and into a private classroom nearby. "What's up, Theo?" the young, pixie-like girl asked, hopping up on the teacher's desk at the front of the room without fear of consequence.

Unlike her sister, Astoria was the tomboy-ish type, not really interested in guys, very down to earth. Her short, no-nonsense haircut, lack of make-up and jewelry, and the easy way she related to people without pretense made her Daphne's polar opposite. He wondered why the youngest Greengrass sibling (who had four older sisters, all of whom had gone through Slytherin House like Ice Queens, he'd been told) had been sorted into Slytherin House, as she seemed more a Hufflepuff, but then he'd heard that the Sorting Hat took into account your personal preferences, so perhaps she had asked to be placed with her older sister so as to not be alone.

Teddy ran a hand through his hair, pushing it off his face and jumped right in, skipping preliminaries. "What happened between Daph and Toby two years ago?"

Between one breath and the next, Astoria froze. She was so like a statue that Teddy grew concerned she might topple over from not breathing.

"Astoria?" he prompted when she didn't reply. He crossed the short distance between them, alarmed. "You okay? Astoria?" He waved a hand in front of her face, but didn't get a reply. Not even an eye blink. He put his hands on her shoulders and gave her one good shake. "Astoria!"

That seemed to work. Instantly, she was focused on his face. She blinked, smiled and looked at him curiously. "Sorry, what were we talking about?" She looked completely oblivious as to what had just happened not three seconds ago.

Teddy considered that seriously, and then tried again, a sneaking suspicion in his mind as to her strange episode. "I asked what happened between Daphne and Toby two years ago."

Again, Astoria's face changed, losing all emotion, going blank. Teddy waved a hand in front of her eyes again. No effect. Her pupils were dilated, her breathing gone shallow, her face somewhat slack. He'd been right: someone had messed with her memories, and put some sort of a memory charm on her to prevent her from talking about this subject. Obviously, whatever happened between Daphne and Toby was meant to stay a secret for a reason – a reason Astoria was not meant to remember or speak of ever.

He shook the young girl again and she snapped out of it, smiling again. "Sorry, I guess the lack of sleep last night is catching up." She yawned. "I completely missed what you just said." She blinked. "Wasn't it awful what happened to the Malfoys? Poor Draco. I wonder if he's okay…" As she spoke, she pinked and looked away.

Teddy stepped back, knowing he wasn't getting anything from Astoria Greengrass that he needed. He nodded, pretending this was what they'd been discussing all along. "As I said, Potter's taking up a collection to send flowers. Tell the others and see if they want to pitch in."

Astoria's face brightened. "Oh, that's a lovely idea! I'll go tell my study group right now. Does it matter how much we give?"

He shook his head. "Whatever you want. Potter's putting everyone's name on the card, whoever donates even a knut." He'd gone himself to the Gryffindor table at dinner and passed on his ten galleons discreetly to his new friend for the cause. "I didn't want to embarrass anyone who didn't want to contribute. That's why I asked to speak to you alone. Hope that was okay?"

Adjusting the strap of her satchel on her shoulder she nodded. "That was very considerate of you, Theo."

As they separated in the hall, she called back to him. "You know, I think Daphne's right about you. You really are a good man."

She left Teddy standing in the hall, gaping after her, wondering why Daphne Greengrass would ever say anything nice about him after everything that had gone down between them.

X~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~X

The _Evening Prophet_ ran a very special edition that night that had the whole wizarding world in an uproar within minutes of its arrival off the presses:

_**DEATH EATERS ESCAPE AZKABAN!**_

_**LUCIUS MALFOY FIRST VICTIM**_

_**by: Betty Braithwaite, Lead Reporter**_

_**The Ministry of Magic confirmed in the wee hours of this morning that Azkaban Prison had been abandoned some time yesterday evening late by its guardians, the Dementors, for reasons still a mystery. Consequently, the impenetrable prison was left unguarded, and a massive breakout of the prisoners occurred, including all of the Dark Lord's fanatically loyal Death Eaters who had been captured and sentenced to various terms within its silent, black walls.**_

_**The Ministry has assured this reporter that every resource at its disposal – including Aurors, Hex-Witches and Magical Law Enforcement Squads from other international Ministries – are being utilized to hunt down and immediately return the dangerous prisoners to the island fortress, which is currently under construction to repair the damaged areas. Already in custody are two former Death Eaters, although the Ministry is withholding their names and locations currently.**_

_**In an ironic twist of fate, this reporter has learned that the first victim of the break-out was none other than a former Death Eater himself. Lucius Malfoy became a confirmed casualty in the wee hours of this morning when he passed away at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries in London, the recipient of an unknown curse at his home just minutes after the mass escape. Although we have been assured that his wife, Narcissa, and only son, Draco, are safe in an undisclosed location currently, our suspicions were confirmed that the successful attempt on The Honorable Lord Malfoy, the Baron of Swindon, was a revenge killing for his son having been pivotal in the death of Lord Voldemort earlier this year. A note left at The Daily Prophet's main offices in Diagon Alley just this morning, signed by Death Eater loyalist, Bellatrix Lestrange – sister-in-law of the victim – takes full responsibility for the murder, and attributes it to, "…the Malfoy family's cowardice and betrayal of our Great Lord!" The note taunts other deaths will follow soon, although no names, dates or locations are provided. **_

_**The Ministry is recommending that all wizards and witches take the same precautions as had been enacted during the war – namely, unplotting your homes and flats, removing yourself from the floo network, avoiding any unnecessary travel, and keeping any correspondence to a minimum to allow official Ministry owls and brooms precedence in the skies. Members who participated in the raid on the Riddle Mansion are requested to check-in with the Ministry daily.**_

_**Stay tuned every day this week as we bring you shocking coverage of the Malfoy family tragedy, as well as any updates as to Death Eater captures or future attacks. As the story unfolds, we'll be there.**_

_**

* * *

**_

**CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: THE TRUTH CAN HURT, IT CAN BIND AND BLIND YOU**

_**Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire, England**_

_**& Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland, **_

_**Monday, November 24, 1997 - Tuesday, November 25, 1997**_

Dinner that Monday night had barely averted disaster. The Malfoy family house elves had done a marvelous job on the food – it was beautifully presented and tasted wonderful. The problem was they had forgotten that this particular dish was one of Lucius and Narcissa's favorites together, and when the Lady of the House realized what was before her, she'd broken down into great, wracking sobs, her thin, bird frame shaking horribly.

Draco leapt to her side in an instant, and it was up to Hermione to get Binky to quickly take away the food and bring any lunch leftovers instead (heated quickly with a charm, she was sure). Thankfully, they had turned aside Draco's temper, which had risen in an instant at seeing his mother so distressed. He began bellowing at Binky, who stepped back in terror, before Hermione stepped in and calmly suggested he comfort Narcissa and she'd handle the meal arrangements from now on. As a Muggle-born from a modest income family, she was sure there were some culinary recipes that the Malfoys had probably never tasted that would be 'safe' for the menu for the next few days.

As soon as the duck a l'orange plate appeared, Hermione had quietly scooted it closer to Narcissa, and then resumed her seat, not wanting to interfere as Draco calmed his mother enough to eat her meal. Too tired to eat dessert, she claimed, Narcissa retired to her room, her son at her elbow to guide her and assure she took her potions.

Hermione remained in her seat in the dining room and finished her food alone. She was spooning some lemon sorbet into her mouth when Draco returned. Crossing to her quickly, he took her utensil out of her hand, put it on the table, drew her up into his arms and kissed her soundly. She still had a mouth full of sorbet, which his tongue dipped in and shared the taste of with a groan. "I love you so much," he confessed as he pulled his lips off hers finally. "Thank you."

She held him close and smiled sadly. "I love you, too." They stood like that, their foreheads together, running fingers slowly and gently over each other's arms and face, and then she sighed. "Is she going to be okay for tonight?"

He nodded wearily. "For now."

She looked at him then and realized how very young he was. The war had changed them both, made them grow up quickly, but he was still only seventeen. True, that meant he was legally an adult in the wizarding world, but it was much too young to have to bury your father. She stroked his cheek. "Take a bath with me, and then we'll go to bed. I'll hold you until you fall asleep."

"Okay," he gave in easily, and she could see the signs of exhaustion starting to take their toll. He hadn't slept last night, she was sure, and this afternoon's few hours in bed hadn't been enough. She led him back up to his room from memory, and he limply followed without a word. Once there, she locked the door with a wave of her wand and set a privacy spell upon to keep sound out. She then led him to the bath, and filled the tub. Finding relaxing lavender bath oil, she dropped a few splashes in the water and stirred it around with a flick of her wrist.

He let her undress him and lead him into the bath, and there was no funny business. Sitting behind him and reaching for a washcloth, she soaked it then dripped the hot water across the back of his neck gently, let it fall like relaxing raindrops before settling the cloth over the spot. She massaged his shoulders and he groaned in pleasure as she worked her fingers over his tight muscles, asking if he wanted more or less pressure as she learned how he liked to be touched. She worked down his arms to his wrists, rolling them each in turn, and made sure to pay attention to each finger, both thumbs and the cradle of his palms. By then, he was out cold, asleep in her arms, his head lolling against her breasts. He snored lightly, and she smiled, placed a kiss on his temple, then lay back against the rim of the huge tub and held him, wrapping her legs around his waist.

_I want to stay like this with you forever_, she thought, nuzzling her face into his baby-fine hair.

X~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~X

Draco awoke on Tuesday morning sandy headed and warm. He looked up at the canopy overhead and recognized that he was in his own room at home. For a moment, he was disoriented, but in the next second, everything came back in a cold rush. That's right – he'd come home yesterday, hadn't he? And Hermione was here with him.

So, it wasn't a dream. His father was really dead, wasn't he? None of it seemed real. Maybe if he cried he'd believe it. But he couldn't, even as he willed himself to. There was no ache in his chest, no feeling whatsoever to build tears upon, in fact. He was strangely numb and detached.

His mind jumped around in a strange pattern of thoughts, settling on the fact that he didn't actually remember crawling into bed last night on his own. His girlfriend must have moved him here after their bath, he figured, probably with magic.

His lover stirred in his arms as if on cue, and he looked down at the top of her frizzy, dark head as it lay upon his chest. Her right arm was flung over his abdomen, her right leg over his, her knee balanced on the top of his thigh. As she moved, she pressed her lower body closer into his hip, and he felt her lower curls rub crisply against his skin. Her right leg slipped between both of his, accidentally stroking his cock. Blood pooled to that location, setting a low simmering fire deep inside his balls, making him ache suddenly. He was hard in an instant.

He felt desire. Finally, he was feeling something.

It was because of Hermione, he realized in a moment of clarity. _She_ brought him out of his icy, impassive prison. _She_ made his body come alive again. _She_ had kept him from the brink of madness and despair before. It was always _her_.

He rolled her onto her back, moving between her legs, spreading them with his knees, and entered her swiftly, kissing her awake. "I love you so much," he mumbled against her lips, his hips pistoning in and out of her fast with long, strong strokes. "I love you. Don't ever leave me, baby. I love you. Stay with me like this. I love you. I need you." He wasn't even cognizant of what he was saying to her. All he knew was the feel of his throbbing, hard penis sheathed inside of her again, of her warm, moist body pulling him in, capturing him utterly. She woke up quickly for once, already moving with him by the second 'I love you' pulled from him in confession, her hips pushing up at him the same time as he drove down into her. It was a rushed coupling, but it was sweet and wonderful and sweaty and hot.

In another minute or so, Hermione exclaimed her own feeling for him in a gasping breath as she climaxed, and finally he let himself go, too, coming inside of her deeply with a shudder and a series of quick thrusts, her name on his lips.

He started crying even as he was still flowing into her. Hermione's arms drew him down flat onto her, and he pressed his face into her collar, weeping and shaking. Her legs wrapped around his waist tightly, holding him still inside of her and he let himself go completely, sobbing as he never had before, not even after he'd gotten over the shock of killing Rodolphus Lestrange and the reality of what he'd just done had crashed headlong into him. _This_ sorrow was not tinged with guilt, so much as with regret, however. It was infinitely more painful for this reason, and he was wholly crushed by it as a result.

His father was dead. Lucius was gone _forever_. He'd never see him or hear his voice again. He wouldn't sit at his side at the dinner table anymore. They'd never share the morning paper over tea like they used to on occasion. They'd never go to another Quidditch match together. He wouldn't see Draco graduate. He'd never get to have an adult drink with him, like he'd wanted. He wouldn't have the chance to know Draco's wife or his children. He'd never get to tell his father that he loved him. He hadn't even been able to say those three simple words as the man had lay dying. They'd said so many other things to each other – important things that had made everything balanced between them finally, and yet, for some reason, they hadn't said the simplest thing to each other: _I love you_. That chance was gone now. His father was dead.

"Draco," Hermione sounded urgent, and tried to gently push him up. "The spell. We need to cast it. The hour is almost up." He heard her words, and they jarred him to his senses. He reached for his wand, but hers was already in her hand. "Show me," she instructed him.

Brushing aside his tears, he tiredly sat up and moved out of her, then brought her wand to her belly and taught her the charm to prevent pregnancy. When it was done, she put her wand down nearby on the bed and brought him back into her embrace. "I'm sorry. I didn't want to… I know you need to… But, we have to be responsible about this, too."

She was right, he _knew_ she was. But for a second there, he'd been tempted – so _very_ tempted – to say the words wrong on purpose or not at all. It was an unwise and reckless thought that could have damaged her trust in him if he'd actually followed through, but the compulsion had been there. He'd wanted to make her pregnant with his child, to bind her to him, to know she would be carrying a part of him inside of her. It was the grief, he knew. Rationally, he understood that when people mourned, they also thought about creating new life. It was natural. But that kind of deceit would have ruined them, and he would not sacrifice her for his own selfishness. Not ever. "I'm sorry," he sniffed, wiping his eyes again, feeling the words were inadequate to convey the sentiment.

He felt his chin taken in her small fingers and his head turned. "I'm here for you. Cry if you want. I'll hold you and love you and I won't let you go until you want."

The hot tears streamed down his cheeks again heedlessly. "Say it again. Tell me you love me," he begged, raw and wounded. For some reason, he needed to hear those words spoken to him over and over again. He needed to know someone he loved _definitely_ loved him back, and that they weren't going away any time soon.

Warm, golden-brown eyes locked onto his gaze, held him with their sincerity. Soft fingertips ghosted his lips. "I love you, Draco Malfoy. My heart is yours."

His lashes fluttered down and he swallowed. "Again. Please."

She told him as many times as he asked her to, and when his body was ready for her again, she lowered herself on top of him and made love to him, whispering in his ear that she was his - every part of her, that she wanted to stay at his side always, and that she would love him forever, if he asked it of her.

After they'd both found release in each other again, she performed the anti-conception charm on herself perfectly and then they languorously got up to shower.

It was seven-fifteen when they parted ways, she to the kitchens to talk to the house elves about the week's menu, he to his mother's room to see to her needs.

As he reached Narcissa's door, he could hear her sobbing behind it. Taking a deep breath, he steeled himself and entered his mother's domain, intruding on her private grief for the sake of her health, knowing she would resent him for it later.

X~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~X

"Did you fucking see this?" Teddy spat, throwing last night's edition of the _Evening Prophet_ down on the table next to Harry's breakfast dish. "That Braithwaite bint almost sounds pleased that Lucius was murdered," he seethed, taking a seat across from he and Ginny.

Harry knew who Betty Braithwaite was intimately; the woman had written some rather intimating pieces about him after the war. He knew she was damned good at writing sensationalism that merely hinted at impropriety, but never quite crossed the line into full accusation (unlike the Skeeter bird, who often impugned reputations openly), thus keeping _The Daily Prophet's_ readership up and them out of court for libel. "If you think that's bad," he sneered, eyeing the piece. "Wait until you read this morning's story."

He passed the latest paper to Teddy, who finished it in less than half a minute, as he was apparently a proficient speed reader. "I can't believe this! Someone should knock that woman's hat off her head."

The article in question gave more information on the freed Death Eaters, including Lucius Malfoy amongst their number, although stating (almost as an afterthought) that he'd been freed by the Ministry on a full pardon, and hadn't been one of the escapees. There were pictures of all of the convicts, and Draco's father had been amongst them, wearing the dingy grey and white striped jump suit of a prisoner (his Azkaban Prisoner placard - number "537" – held before him, while he was wrapped in chains, wearing a neck brace and bandaged up for the injuries he'd received in the Department of Mystery's fight in June last year), once more intimating that he had been a no-count criminal and therefore probably deserved what had happened to him.

Blaise and Pansy came up to the table then. "Hey, Potter, I just want to say… I…" he looked over at Pansy, who nudged him. "What I mean is, _we_ think what you're doing for Draco and his mum is nice. The flowers, that is. We wanted to contribute." He turned over a small bag that jingled with coins when it hit the wood. "That's from Pansy, Adrian, Daphne, Astoria and me."

Harry picked up the bag and placed it in his satchel with a nod. "Thanks. I'll add your names to the card."

X~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~X

Teddy's heart picked up pace at the mention of Daphne's name by Zabini, but he quickly shunted that feeling to the side, believing it to be nothing more than too much coffee that morning (he'd downed two entire cups – really black, strong stuff - as he'd read through yesterday's paper at his table alone in the quiet before the morning rush of students invaded the dining hall earlier).

The Slytherin duo turned, holding hands, but then Pansy stopped and turned back to look at Potter. "I take it Granger's with him?"

Harry nodded slowly, careful in his reply, Teddy noted.

Pansy smiled. "Good. That's good," she said, and she and Zabini moved off back to their own table. Teddy was floored. He was sure Pansy, of all people, wouldn't like the idea of Granger being at the Manor unchaperoned. The Queen of his House may be with Blaise now, and had not had anything sexual with Drake since Fourth Year, but she was one possessive bitch when it came to him. Teddy had assumed she hadn't like Granger all that much, honestly, but the smile she gave looked… real. For once.

He ate breakfast with Potter, the She-Weasel, and Ron and his blonde girlfriend (who had come in ten minutes after Teddy had started in on his eggs, beans and bacon), and then headed off to Advanced Charms Lab.

On his way out of the Great Hall, he spied Daphne up ahead of him, walking with Astoria. He watched her warily, keenly observing every nuance of her outer shell (as his Slytherin heritage had taught him to do), noting that she didn't sweep her long, blonde hair back in the typical vain, courting gesture most females engaged in when a male classmate greeted her, that she changed off the hands holding her satchel every minute or so, as if the weight of her books were uncomfortable, and that her hips always swayed from left to right when she stopped and then started walking again. Most telling of all, however, was the sad, almost wistful look she gave when Astoria had bid her goodbye as they separated for their different class schedules, and how she grabbed the ends of her long hair and yanked hard, as if intentionally causing herself pain.

He watched her for the remainder of the classes they shared that day, noting that whenever she was called upon by the professor, she would yank her hair and give an incorrect answer. It was as if she were deliberately trying to appear to be of just average intelligence, when Teddy _knew_ Daphne was intellectually smart. When they'd been dating, they'd studied together, and he'd often witnessed her gift of nearly perfect recall of subject matter. And yet, as he thought about it now, she wasn't in the top ten students by grade point average anymore, was she? She abso-_bloody_-loutely should be, however.

Why hadn't he noticed this before?

Well, if he were honest with himself, it was because for almost the last two years, he'd hated her, and he hadn't wanted to think about her at all. She'd broken his heart callously and he wasn't going to forgive her for that.

He considered again how smart and magically talented he knew Daphne to be, and wondered if she had anything to do with Astoria's condition. It came as nothing of a shock to realize he wouldn't put it past his ex- to be involved somehow in memory Obliviation. She was a viper queen of Slytherin, after all.

The more he pondered the mystery, the more Teddy realized that he absolutely wanted the truth of the matter. He wanted to know _why_ Daphne would accuse him of being like Toby, too. He wanted to know what had gone down between his blonde ex-girlfriend and the man he'd caught her kissing in her room that day two years ago. She'd claimed she hadn't wanted Toby - hadn't wanted him to touch her at all, in fact. If that were true, Teddy intended on finding out why he had been pawing on her, and why she hadn't seemed to be protesting too much.

X~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~X

Narcissa had refused to leave her room to join them for breakfast on Tuesday morning, so Hermione had Binky apparate up a tray containing food selections she knew Draco's mother had probably never seen before, including a muffin-fried egg-cheese-ham sandwich, patterned off of one of those American fast-food franchises, and a small cup of cottage cheese with pineapple chunks in. She also sent up the regular morning spiced tea with a dash of honey added for sweet. To her delight, an hour later, Binky reported that Narcissa was receptive to the meal and had finished it all.

That afternoon, Hermione hesitantly brought Narcissa's tray up to the lady of the house personally, thinking it was time to actually be face-to-face with the woman.

The two had met briefly one time: after the Final Battle, when Lady Malfoy had come to Grimmauld Place to find Draco, who was temporarily resting in one of the upstairs bedrooms, overcome with exhaustion after the fight. From that time, she remembered the woman's undeniable beauty, her striking poise, her fierce, ice-blue eyes staring menacingly at her as she imperiously demanded to be taken to her son immediately. Now, Narcissa was only a shade of her former self. Her aristocratic face was naked of make-up, puffy from crying, and lined with deep sadness, her once bright eyes were dull and red-rimmed, circled by purple bruises, and her shining, light golden blonde hair was limp and messy. The woman was distant, her responses minimal, her voice raspy, but at least she ate what was provided, and took her potions as the labels directed.

Before she left the room, Hermione made sure Narcissa's covers were adjusted to keep her warm, waved her wand over the fire to assure it remained stoked and burning hot for hours more, and that the drapes in her room were pulled to give her soothing darkness to sleep by.

After returning the tray to the kitchens she arranged for Draco's lunch, taking it up to him in his father's study, where he had informed her earlier he could be found for the remainder of the day. Walking in, she found him composing a letter to the wizard's funeral directorship of Wendell & Phells in Wiltshire, asking them to make the arrangements with the hospital for the recovery and caretaking of his father's body for final resting. He told them to pick out the best casket in their line and arrange for Lucius' interment this coming Saturday at the Malfoy Family's crypt, which was on the property, far in the back, behind a hill that was covered in Bluebells, Foxgloves, Michaelmas Daisies and Wild Basil during the spring and summer (it was now buried under a foot of snow, however). He then turned his attention to the financial matters – arranging for the various Gringotts accounts and family properties to legally change over into sole ownership by his mother.

With little she could do to help in such personal, arduous tasks, Hermione took care of her boyfriend the only way she could: she made sure he was provided with food and drink, a blanket for warmth (sitting for so long had caused his extremities to suffer a lack of blood circulation), and gave him the reassurance of her presence.

When he'd finished eating, she took his tray away and went back to the kitchen, only then eating her afternoon portions. Then, she set about asking the elves about their daily chores, making sure not to step on Lubby's toes in the process. It was all-in-all an emotionally exhausting afternoon as she had to constantly reassure the elderly creature that she was, in fact, a perfect servant, and that Hermione had no intention of dismissing her or removing her from her charge as Head elf.

At six o'clock, Draco was still busy making legal adjustments. He was currently corresponding with his father's solicitor in Diagon Alley via owl regarding his legal responsibilities as the sole heir to the family fortune and discussing the matter of Lucius' Last Will and Testament. Tomorrow, he informed her, they were to notify relatives and friends of the funeral arrangements and contact _The Daily Prophet_ to put in the death notice, which he had yet to write.

Hermione never realized until just that moment how many things a person had to do to bury a loved one. It had always seemed rather straight forward to her before, but then, she'd never gone through this process personally (she'd been a small child when both sets of her grandparents had passed, and all of her current family were, thankfully, healthy and happy). Now she understood that there were hidden responsibilities to address after a passing, many of which were time sensitive. It didn't leave much chance for a person to grieve. Maybe that was the point, though.

At eight o'clock, after she'd made sure Narcissa was taken care of for the evening, she finally made Draco stop and put his quill down to join her for dinner. It was an awkward meal, as her lover was distracted, his mind unfocused. She patiently waited him out, knowing he'd cue her when he was ready to talk.

It was half way through dessert when he finally started speaking about how it hit him hard that he was now the Baron of Swindon. Hermione had known Lucius had been titled, as his family was related to the Bloody Baron's, but she wisely kept her mouth shut. "I don't want it," he growled. "My mother can keep her title as Dowager Baroness, but I plan to disclaim my hereditary peerage to the Lord Chancellor."

Knowing it was not her place to dispute, Hermione did not reply, although she didn't agree with the decision either. She continued to eat her fresh cut strawberries and cream (where the elves were getting traditionally summer fruit during the winter she hadn't figured out yet) in silence, holding her tongue. Draco picked up on her mood immediately, putting two and two together.

"You think that's a mistake," he stated accusatorily, throwing his spoon down on the table with a loud clank and sitting back in his chair. "Don't you?"

Hermione sighed. She knew he was picking a fight because he was hurting and frustrated and obviously exhausted, so she tried to be as calm and rational as possible when answering. "It's your decision to make, Draco. Whatever you choose will be right for you."

He stared at her hard. "Don't speak to me as if I'm some sort of child in need of emotional coddling," he stated coldly. "I asked what you thought, not for a non-committal, patronizing answer."

She calmly put her spoon down at the correct angle to indicate she was finished eating, dabbed her mouth neatly with her napkin and folded it, setting it to the side of her plate, as she'd been instructed to do during fine dining lessons with her grandmother as a child. "Okay, then here it is," she prepared with a heavy sigh. "I think you're throwing away your father's legacy to punish yourself for some reason that I'm sure you feel is important, but that I can't fathom. Either that or you're just too chicken to deal with the responsibility of growing up so fast." She looked evenly at him, trying to keep her hands from fidgeting by folding them in her lap, knowing she was being brutal, but he had asked for this, and she thought he needed to hear the bald truth. "In either case, I think it's a mistake to turn this down. Lucius would want you to accept his title. And he'd definitely want your children to carry it as well. He was too rooted in aristocratic custom, from the little I knew of him, not to. My advice is to accept it gracefully. Doing so might also help you and your mother both move through the grieving process, as well."

Draco stared at her like she'd grown a second head. Then, he backed down, his anger lost to despair once more. He pushed his plate rather roughly away, and leaned his elbows on the space it recently vacated, grabbing his head. "It'll be like he never existed if I… if I take his title. It was _his_."

Hermione stood and rounded the cornered edge of the table to kneel at his side. She touched his shoulder lightly. "Think of it instead as he'll be living through you forever this way. And then you'll both live through your own son, once he takes the title from you. It's a beautiful legacy, Draco. Eternally enduring."

A small sob escaped him, and he turned, burying his face in her neck, wrapping his arms about her tightly, drawing her into his lap. She held onto him, letting him cry again. He was so hurt by his father's passing, and she suspected some of it was because he blamed himself.

When he calmed and was quiet again, she called for Binky, who appeared with a loud crack, and let the good-natured creature know they were retiring to his room, and wished her and all the elves a good night and a sincere thanks for a nice meal. She took Draco's hand and led him upstairs then, where she led them to his bathroom so they could individually brush their teeth and make their evening toilet in turn. After, she undressed them both, and he insisted on no clothes as they finally climbed into bed together. He lay his head on her breast and instead of trying to seduce her, as she thought he'd meant to when he'd denied her any pajamas or lingerie, he fell promptly asleep. As she held him, she hoped that tomorrow's newspaper could be caught again in time (she'd barely managed to stop the kitchen elf from delivering Narcissa's tray with the paper on the edge this morning). She didn't want either of them seeing what that evil Braithwaite woman was writing about Lucius.

Although, she supposed, it probably wouldn't matter much after tomorrow, since Draco was going to contact _The Daily Prophet_ with the death notice, and she was sure that bint of a reporter would be all over them then. Despite this, Hermione had every intention of keeping nasty Betty at arm's length – even if she had to bite and snap her teeth at the woman to do so.

X~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~X

Teddy cornered Daphne in her room alone that night. Her roommates, he'd made sure before coming here, were in the library working on their Herbology essays, which he knew would take them a few hours. He'd snuck by the magically charmed stairs up to the women's side of the Slytherin dorms using a spell he'd invented to cloak his aura to 'feel' like a female. With a Disillusionment Charm also in place, he'd found her name on the door easily and knocked lightly.

"Come," Daphne offered from the other side, so he opened the door, checked to make sure he wasn't catching her during an embarrassing moment (like dressing for bed), and when it was safe, he came in and shut the door behind, removing the charm at the same time. He then waved his wand and cast a silencing and locking charm on the room. He intended on getting to the bottom of their mystery tonight.

Daphne looked over and froze, her eyes going wide in an instant. "What…? Theo, what are you doing here uninvited?" She was wicked angry suddenly. Her brows twitched downward, and a wrinkle appeared on her perfect brow as she frowned.

He stared at her, suddenly unsure as to his reasons for coming tonight. What was he doing here again? Right – Daphne's hidden agenda, Astoria's memory problems, Toby Lennox. His heart was pounding, but he attributed that to the coming confrontation. "Tori… something's happened to her memories, Daph," he stated, hawkishly watching her face for reaction. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"

His ex- went still, her face shut down intentionally. "What makes you think that?" She was being oh-so-careful, and Teddy just _knew_ his suspicions were right.

"Someone tampered with her memories," he bluntly laid his cards out on the table. "I recognized the signs of Obliviation mixed with a Blanketing Confundus Charm. Specifically, I saw the behavior manifest when discussing the memories of you and Toby from two years ago. Now why would _someone_ mess with her head about _that_, do you suppose?"

The beautiful blonde turned away, grabbing up some freshly laundered and folded clothes that lay on her bunk (compliments of the valet house elves) and organized them neatly inside the drawers of her dresser. "I couldn't really say. But, perhaps you're mistaken, Theo." She looked at him with definite ire. "It wouldn't be the first time." With a haughty upturn of her nose, he knew she'd dismissed him.

Refusing to be turned away now, he folded his arms and leaned back against the door, watching her whittle the pile away until all of her clothes were tucked into their proper places once more. When she realized he wasn't gone, she turned to him and put her hands on her hips. "Why are you still here?"

Teddy shook his head. "I've been watching you, you know. You play with your hair when you're uncomfortable or want to hide something about yourself. That's _your_ tell, Daph." He smirked. "You just did it again a second ago, so I think that means you lied to me. And I think you've been lying to me for a long time now. I want to know why. What is this all about?"

As if on reflex, Daphne's hand moved to her hair, and then she caught herself and stopped. She looked away, crossing her arms over her chest protectively. "We have nothing to discuss, Theo. What's going on with Astoria is none of your business."

He growled. "Then how about what's going on with us?"

Her eyes snapped to his face warily, licking her lips. "Nothing's going on with us. You made that clear the other night."

His heart was slamming against his ribs now as his anger simmered under the surface. She was playing with him again. She always toyed with his emotions, like he was a plebe slave she could bitch-slap around. Not this time. He'd play her back. "I thought I made it clear that I'd be willing to give you what you wanted. I'm up for a good fuck if you are."

She narrowed her eyes. "I'm not interested in being your whore. That's not who I am."

Thinking to make her uncomfortable, he stalked across the room, stopping on a sickle as he rounded her bedpost and she hastily took a step back, dropping her arms. They stared hard at each other. "Aren't you though?" he taunted, narrowing his eyes in disgust.

Fists clenched at her side, Daphne began shaking in fury, her alluring green eyes filling with hot tears. "How could I possibly be a whore, Theo, when you're the only man I've ever willingly slept with?" Salt water tracked down her cheeks as she glared daggers at him.

That brought him up short. "I'm not sure I believe that," he stated evenly. "I've heard the rumors, Daph. You've been around the block a few times if they're to be believed." He smirked cruelly. "Another go at me isn't going to cost you much more."

Her face contorted in pain and then she covered her eyes with her hands and wept. "Get out! GET OUT!" she screamed at him. "I want you to get out now!" She broke apart, sobbing, hiding from him behind her fingers. "Just leave me alone, Theo. Stop torturing me. Stop hurting me."

Unsure as to how to handle this situation, Teddy stood there, struck dumb. This was not at all what he expected. He thought she'd fire back at him as usual, or admit her duplicity finally, but to be accused of hurting _her_? "How am I hurting you?" he demanded. "You're the one who stomped all over me two years ago. You're the one holding my sickness over our heads in an attempt to get me to sleep with you again."

She sobbed harder. "You're _so stupid_, Theo. I would _never_ do that to you." She looked up at him with fierce determination. "NEVER! That's not who I am." She bawled some more, closing her eyes. "And two years ago, we hurt _each other_. You never asked me for the truth that day. You just assumed everything." She turned away, struggling to regain control. "This was all a mistake. I want you to leave. I never should have…" She stopped herself intentionally, wiping at her eyes with shaky fingers.

Teddy felt snakes writhe around in his guts, poking holes through his intestines. "Never should have _what_, Daphne?" he pressed, wanting to know what all the secrecy was about.

She kept wiping at her eyes, her tears slowing. She sniffed several times, calming down. When she finally spoke, her voice was defeated. "I never should have wished for another chance with you," she finally admitted with a sad huff. "It was stupid. I thought enough time had passed. I thought we'd both grown up enough to finally talk it through. But I was wrong. There's just too much between us."

Teddy was floored. Thinking she'd only wanted sex had let him maintain the illusion that she was nothing but a manipulative sadist looking for a new kick, but what if he'd been wrong all along? "What happened two years ago, Daphne?" he asked. "I want to know. I _need_ to."

She sagged, seeming to collapse into herself. Taking a deep breath, she let it out slowly. "Make me an oath on your powers that you'll never speak of it, and I'll tell you," she negotiated, turning to him. "Astoria can never know. I don't want her to ever remember. _Swear it to me_, Theo. Or else, just get out."

Knowing he'd probably regret it later, he nodded, his curiosity getting the better of him. "I so swear on my powers not to ever willingly reveal to another living soul what you're about to tell me," he made the promise and felt the magic within him tingle in response. A Wizard's Oath wasn't as binding as an Unbreakable Vow, as the consequence of non-fulfillment wasn't death. But as a magically binding oral contract, it was as solid a contract as any sane person dare make; if the promise was ever broken, a wizard's powers were diminished as a result of acting in bad faith. It was as good as Daphne could have ever hoped for, and they both knew it.

With a nod in acceptance, she crossed to sit on her bed, indicating that he should do likewise. He wisely chose to sit near the end, making sure not to get too close, just in case. He still didn't completely trust Daphne Greengrass. One bitten, twice shy.

She pulled her pillow around to cover her abdomen in an unconscious protective gesture meant to create a barrier between them (weak though it was), and grabbed a hold of her long hair, playing with the ends – a sure sign she was uncomfortable and wanting to hide again. Despite this, she finally opened her mouth and spilled her secrets.

"Two years ago, when she started her Third Year here, Astoria was only just barely thirteen, but her body had finally matured the summer before. She was a woman finally. Toby Lennox noticed this the first day back at school. He was a Sixth Year then." She sneered as she wove through her memories, staring down at her duvet cover, her fingers twisting and untwisting the ends of her long, golden strands now. "He started sending her notes, then little gifts. She'd never had a boy's attentions before, so she was flattered, naturally." She sniffed again, daintily wiping her nose with a finger. "It was after the Halloween feast, when the House parties were going on that he convinced her to go with him deeper into the dungeons. He wanted to show her something really exciting, or so he said. She followed him innocently, not knowing better. He brought her into an unused classroom in the labyrinth and locked the door behind them, and then he kissed her. She kissed him back, thinking she really liked him, and it was her first kiss. She didn't understand what he really expected from her, though." Daphne's eyes shut in pain and a small sob escaped her lips. "He raped her, Theo. He held her down, ripped her knickers off and fucked her right there on the teacher's desk, even though she begged him to stop. Afterwards, he threatened her that if she ever told anyone, he'd say she asked him for it. He blackmailed her into silence." Wiping at her eyes again, Daphne's voice broke, but then grew hard. "By December, she'd come to me crying. She'd gotten pregnant from the assault. That fucking bastard didn't even take precautions when he had his way with her."

A shaky hand came up to swipe her hair from her face. "She was so scared, and she was so young. I knew it would ruin her. So… I arranged with a woman in Knockturn Alley that I'd heard one of my older sisters talk about. She made potions… to help… terminate pregnancies. I thought… I thought it would be for the best. During the Christmas break, we convinced my parents to take us to the Alley, and I separated from the others and went to the witch. She gave me something that cost me my whole savings." Wrapping her arms about her, Daphne started rocking back and forth. "It almost killed Astoria. She was so sick and there was blood coming out of her nonstop. I went to my older sister – the one who'd told me about the woman – and I explained everything. We agreed to take her to St. Mungo's without our parents knowing. The doctors knew right away what had happened, but we refused to tell them anything – even made up fake names and my sister Transfigured all of our features to hide who we really were. They fixed Tori, but she was emotionally devastated." She shut her eyes in shame. "It was my idea – to take her memories. My sister did it, but… it was my plan. I didn't want her to suffer anymore." She looked up at Teddy with an openly wounded gaze. "I betrayed her. But you can't ever tell her, please, Theo. It would kill her if she remembered any of it."

Teddy considered everything she'd told him, including the timeline of their breakup in January that year. "So you confronted Lennox when you got back to school?"

She nodded. "I cornered him in a broom closet one afternoon – lured him in, let him think I wanted more. Then, I told him what he'd done to Tori and how we Greengrass girls handled the situation for him, the coward. I threatened him that I would have his balls cut off if he ever so much as looked at Tori again. But he didn't back off. In fact, he looked at the whole thing as a big game. He took a shining to me after that. I didn't expect it. He just started following me around that week. Everywhere I went, there he was." She shuddered in memory. "He got into our Common Room that day and figured out how to beat the warded stairs by walking up them behind two women at the same time. He snuck into my room." Here she stopped, swallowing convulsively, a greenish cast tinting her features.

Teddy scooted closer. "What did he do?" He asked, but he already knew. It was as clear as day on Daphne's horrified expression what Toby Lennox had done to her.

"When… when you came in… he'd just finished…," she stammered, trembling violently. "He threatened to tell everyone about Astoria _and_ me, said he would deny any allegations and claim we'd both begged him for it. And he threatened to tell about Astoria's homebrewed abortion that I nearly killed her with, and how my sister and I had illegally Obliviated her memories." She swallowed. "I'd said too much. When I'd been bragging about how we bested him, I didn't realize that I'd be giving him all the ammunition he'd needed to destroy us both and disgrace our family. It was all my fault." The tears were back, streaking down her face in rivulets. "He blackmailed me. Said I was going to let him fuck me for as long as he wanted or else. Then he kissed me to 'seal the deal.' That's when you came in."

Shame washed through Teddy. Daphne had been right. He hadn't ever asked her about what he'd seen; he'd just assumed the older boy was there because he'd been invited. After all, the stairs were a good deterrent. But Lennox had outsmarted them, no doubt having read about it somewhere, as a Ravenclaw with a thirst for knowledge.

"When he saw how angry you were, Toby realized that he'd stepped in it. He didn't know you and I were together, so he backed off," she told him. "He hadn't expected a boyfriend in the picture. And he knew the rumors about your Death Eater father, Theo, and you were _so angry_. You looked like you were capable of killing us both right then."

He closed his eyes for a second in remembrance. "I think I was." When he looked back at her, their gazes connected and it was a powerful moment. "I know I really wanted to kill him for touching you."

Daphne wiped her cheeks and eyes again. "That was enough to scare Toby away. He never pursued me, and he avoided Tori and I after that like the plague. When he graduated in June, I finally felt free again to breathe."

Teddy recalled the conversation they'd had in his room, when she'd discovered his illness, and now it all clicked. "That's the favor you said I'd done for you."

She nodded. "Unintentional though it was," she admitted, "you saved me from a bad fate, Theo. Toby would have brutalized me again and again. He was sick and twisted."

Running his hand through his long bangs in frustration, Teddy slammed his fist down on the mattress. "Why didn't you ever say anything? You could have told me! You should have told Dumbledore!"

She stared at him seriously. "You weren't interested in hearing the truth, and as for telling an adult… they'd have reversed Tori's memories, I'd have been expelled, and my older sister would have seen jail time in Azkaban, probably. No, no one could know. No one _can_ know."

"You're just going to let Toby get away with this?" he demanded, incredulous. "That fucker raped both you and Astoria!"

She blinked, shutting down again. "Do you think that's not a common occurrence in a co-ed high school, Theo? Half the girls I know have been date raped or coerced into doing something sexual they didn't really want to do. That is _especially_ true in this House." She sniffed in bitter amusement, her Slytherin training returning, helping her to front her obvious hurt behind callousness. "I've been luckier than the others. It only happened to me once. I've been able to convince men who want me that I'm too high maintenance to pursue for long. Claiming to have expensive tastes and expecting them to spend cash discourages them. And if that doesn't work, they usually lose interest after a few weeks when I won't put out."

It all made sense, in a twisted, very Slytherin sort of way. Rotating through guys like they were little more than the fashion of the month, specifically… it fit. Her reputation around school was that she was a demanding bitch, but plenty of guys had bragged on tapping her, too. Were they lying? He felt powerfully undone inside and out, that old wound over his heart opened and stretched and stabbed. If Daphne's version of these events was true, he'd terribly misjudged her. He'd mistreated her unfairly. He'd been a right, fucking bastard to her, in fact.

He needed time to think, to process everything she'd said. It was all too much to take in at once.

"Thank you for telling me your side," he settled on the safe answer. "And, I'm sorry… for your pain. But… you should have told me anyway, Daphne. That day, even though I was a belligerent idiot, you should have said something. Or in the years between, at any time. I might have heard you."

She uncrossed her legs and stood on the opposite side of the bed from him, gripping the wooden bed post. "And it might have caused things to explode, making them worse," she countered. "If you'd known what Toby did that day, or even last year after everything with your dad went down, what would you have done to Lennox, Theo?"

He leaned back against the post on his side, thunking his head back against the solid piece. His voice was assured, deadpan. "I would have used two of the three Unforgivables on him. No hesitation. He'd have been dead by the end of it."

From the corner of his eye, he saw Daphne's head bob up and down. "And everything would be exposed. Astoria would be ruined, my sister and I would be ruined, and you'd probably have been thrown in jail and eventually given the Dementor's Kiss when you came of age. This way, the damage was minimized to only you and me."

He sniffed in wry amusement at that. "I wouldn't say it was minimal, Daph. You broke my heart, you know."

She was quiet for a moment. "And you broke mine," she whispered back.

There was a palatable silence between them. The air shivered with the nervous, disappointed energies rolling off of both of them. Teddy sighed. "Maybe you're right. Maybe there is too much between us now. Maybe… it's for the best that we leave it alone."

He could feel her sorrow like cold ash in his mouth. "I… guess."

What was happening to him? His head was messed up bad. He couldn't want this, not again. Could he? But what about Granger?

_What about her? She's __Drake's__ girlfriend, remember?_ that voice in the back of his head reminded him.

Undecided, not even sure if he could trust Daphne's story to not be one big, elaborate lie (although his instincts told him it wasn't), Teddy knew he had to leave her room right then before he did or said something they would both regret even more later. He shoved off her bed and headed for the door. As he reached for the handle, he paused. "I promised I'd never speak a word of this conversation to anyone, and I meant it, Daphne. If nothing else, you can trust that."

He unlocked the room with a wave of his wand and left, not even bothering with a Disillusionment Charm, passing swiftly past the surprised faces of girls who were out and about in the corridors of the women's dorms. He flew up to his own room, and shut and locked the curtains around his bed, kicking his shoes off and lying back, thinking.

If she was telling the truth, he owed his ex-girlfriend a huge apology. They owed each other one. _Fuck_, he thought disconsolately, his heart now torn up with indecision. He'd loved Daphne once upon a time, and even though he'd believed those feelings long gone, he now could feel that he'd been lying to himself. He'd never really gotten over her, had he? Was it true what they said about first loves? That you never really gave them up?

Could he trust her? Could he trust any of it? The only way to know was to find Toby Lennox and get him to spill the truth. But that bastard was probably half the way around the world by now, and the chase would be fruitless, as he knew Lennox wouldn't cop to any of it without some serious persuasion – and Teddy wasn't up for that kind of physical confrontation anymore. Magical, maybe, but then he'd be put in prison for it. So, it came down to whether or not he felt he could believe Daphne.

Did he even want to though? Did it matter anymore?

"_I never should have wished for another chance with you."_

He might have been right: perhaps it was better if they just left this alone. He needed all his strength for the next few months. Burning himself out in Daphne might just end him sooner… and he wanted so badly to win his bet with Granger, if for no other reason now than to get her to fulfill his last request. Then he could let it all go.

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES:**

**1 galleon = approximately £5.00 (5 British Pounds), according to J.K.R. So, Teddy gave approximately £50.00 (50 British Pounds) for the flowers!**

**Musical Selections listened to when writing these chapters:**

"**Harry In Winter" – **_**Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire**_** soundtrack**

"**Harry and Hermione" – **_**Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince**_** soundtrack**

"**Need To Be Next To You" – Michelle Branch**


	12. Chapters 22 and 23

**CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: NOTICE**

_**Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire, England**_

_**& The Daily Prophet Headquarters, Diagon Alley, London, England**_

_**& Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland **_

_**Wednesday, November 26, 1997 **_

Draco sat at his father's desk – his desk now, he glumly realized – to write the death notice for the newspaper, his quill hovering over the parchment. Behind him on the fireplace mantle, an ancient clock ticked away the seconds loudly in the otherwise still room.

Ten seconds.

Thirty.

One minute.

Two minutes.

Ink dripped down onto the cream-colored paper.

How in the hell did you start something like this? He had no idea what was appropriate.

_**Lucius Abraxas Malfoy**_

That seemed a good place to begin. He added the date of his father's birth next. He hesitated slightly, his fingers trembling when he wrote the date of death after. He swallowed, forcing his tears down. He had to do this. He _had_ to. Hermione was right – this was how you were supposed to mourn, so that the hurt would someday dull. _Put the quill down on the paper and write, you pussy_, he demanded of himself. And he did. After an hour's worth of mental struggle, and four bundled up, tossed away wads on the floor later, he had completed the succinct eulogy for his father to be posted publicly.

When the ink had dried, he folded the parchment up in a neat, perfect square, placed it in one of the matching envelopes, stamped it official with the Malfoy wax seal, and went off to the Aviary to find his eagle owl.

He waited until Agorix, his familiar, had winged away out of sight before turning and heading for his mother's room. Hermione was already there, attempting to coax his mother into bathing; she'd been wearing the same clothes since Sunday, and hadn't cleaned up in all that time, he only just realized. Shame flooded through him at his selfishness. He'd been so wrapped up in his own sadness that he hadn't thought to take proper care of his mother as he should.

The house elf, Binky, was standing off to the side, watching and waiting silently for a command from her temporary mistress. Big, limpid blue pools filled with tears engulfed the small creature's face. How odd that a house elf should mourn a human's suffering, he thought abstractedly.

Draco considered entering, but then realized that his presence – he looked so like his father – might distress his mother, and he had no wish to embarrass her regarding her state of uncleanliness, so he hung back, peeking through the tiny opening in the door, listening and assuring all was well. He worried his mother's temper might get the best of her and that she'd turn on his lover, but to his shock (and some measure of sorrow), his mother limply allowed herself to be led around. And Hermione was so gentle, speaking softly, touching his mother's hand with tenderness as she got her up and off her couch. When they went into the bathroom, the elf following, he heard the water turned on, and the echoing, dim voice of Hermione asking the elf to "help Lady Malfoy with her undressing and bathing," and then she stepped back into the main bedroom and quietly closed the bathroom door, allowing his mother privacy and dignity.

His heart swelled in his chest and he brushed tears from the corner of his eyes. It was an arrogant boast, but in that moment, Draco truly believed that he loved Hermione more than any man could possibly love a woman. He watched her through the opening as she walked towards the fireplace again. Her small shoulders were shaking with each step, but she did not collapse into herself when her suppressed sobs rent the air. Instead, she remained tall, her back ramrod straight, wrapped her arms about her middle, and pursed her lips tightly to hold back the noise (obviously so his mother wouldn't hear), as she mourned for his family.

Something in Draco broke, forced him to look at what he was doing to the woman he loved. She was suffering because of _him_.

Hurrying through the door, he approached her from behind and turned her into his embrace. They clung to each other, whispering sweetness in each other's ears, promises of unwavering love, and in those seconds, he finally made the decision to do what he had to. It was only a question of when and how to broach the subject with her.

X~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~X

An eagle owl carrying a square envelope appeared at Barnabas Cuffe's office window. It was addressed to the Editor of _The Daily Prophet_ directly. As soon as he flipped the packet around, he noted the dark green wax seal with the embossed "M" and _knew _who the addresser was.

"Braithwaite," he shouted from his office out the open door into the main room. "I've got something for you." He tossed the owl a treat and it took off into the sky, winging home.

In seconds, the bouncing brunette approached, a Quick Quotes Quill hovering in the air beside her, waiting for instruction. "You rang, luv?" she teased, one dark, arched eyebrow raised in challenge, a smirk plastered to her perfectly rouged lips. Her pale skin was eerily shiny in the late morning sunlight streaming through the large, octagonal window behind him.

He held the envelope up, wax seal facing her, and smirked. "Lookie, lookie," he taunted. "A Malfoy's come callin', darling."

Her alabaster cheeks flushed with blood and her eyes widened and shimmered with a lust that mirrored bedroom behavior. Her small, pink tongue brushed out and wet her lips. She looked like a woman on the edge of discovering something wonderful. "What is it?"

Cuffe shrugged. "Haven't opened it yet," he confessed nonchalantly. "Was looking for a good reason to."

Her liquid sienna eyes swung to his baby blues, suspicion and surely at least two or three plans already running through them. "Wasn't my last present pretty enough for you?" she faux pouted.

Barnabas shrugged. "Oh, absolutely," he purred. "Which is why I want another taste." Much to his disappointment, he and Mr. Falmouth Falcon had only verbally sparred at Monday night's dinner, throwing out sexually charged innuendo that left Cuffe wanting more. He was quite sure the other man knew it, too. He seemed to like to play, same as Barnabas. "Promise to arrange it and you get this." He waved the envelope back and forth lazily between two fingers.

Betty grinned wickedly. "Might not be tonight, maybe tomorrow. Depends upon his schedule."

Cuffe gave her a half-lidded stare. "Make it tonight," he insisted and flung the envelope at her. "Or I'll spank your arse for teasing."

Clutching the small packet to her chest, his star reporter smirked lasciviously. "I think I could persuade him." She started to leave, and then turned about, a last minute issue on the tip of her tongue. "Just wondering, honeybunch: do you cook? He might be into breakfast, too. It's the best meal of the day, you know."

"Sweetums, I make the best omelet a man's ever tasted," Barnabas snorted derisively, brushing his hands down his nicely chiseled chest in arrogant boast. "Guaran-_fucking_-teed."

X~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~X

When Binky had emerged from the bath to tell Hermione that Lady Malfoy was cleaned up, that she would send her clothes down to the valet elves for laundering, and that she would assure Narcissa was dressed in the clothes that Hermione had picked out for her, only then did she let Draco lead her away.

Through a long hallway, taking a right turn and then a left, down a set of elegant marble stairs and through a gargantuan set of double, inlaid oak doors, he led her to a part of the manor she'd never seen before - a lovely indoor garden decorated in Middle Eastern style. Grand, round Roman archways with inset mini tiles colorfully patterning the ceilings led her in and scalloped the room on every side. High above, a domed glass roof with wooden slats let in an abundance of light. Hanging down in a circle around the room were a series of eight Arabic-styled iron lanterns. This was the brightest place she'd been in the house, and the smell of living plants and flowers – the perfume of jasmine especially heavy in the air - lifted her spirits immediately. Palms, Ficus, Banana plants and other green-leafed foliage surrounded a central fountain (topped with a bronze statue of a cherubic angel holding a swan) that was, itself, overflowing with a variety of decorative ferns and hanging creepers, instead of being used for splashing water. Turkish rugs scattered on the stone floor about provided some small measure of insulation against the updraft caused by the tall ceiling. Draco led them to one of the two matching garden settees and they quietly sat next to each other, absorbing the calming atmosphere.

"Are you cold?" he asked, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and huddling her close to him. She nodded, for indeed, it was a tad chilly in here, and he waved his wand towards an indoor Chimnea off to the side. Immediately, the flames licked up and magical heat filled the space in minutes. Warmth, but no smoke or soot – what a great idea! "Better?" he inquired.

"Much, thank you," she offered, snuggling into his chest, pressing her cheek to his soft cable-knit sweater, wrapping her right arm about his torso.

He kissed the top of her curly head and leaned his cheek on it. "Thank you, for taking such care of my mother. You've been… amazing, my love."

She couldn't help the teasing mood that suddenly took her over. "Yes, well, I'm always good for 'amazing'… as you well know, Mr. Malfoy." She started tracing her finger in circles over his abdomen.

A chuckle rumbled through his chest, vibrating through her body. "Yes, I'm _definitely_ aware of that fact, Miss Granger." His left hand reached for the edge of her right breast and he began stroking her over her clothes. "You know, for a girl who was a virgin, you're incredibly sexual. But then, you know what they say about bookish types."

She tilted her head up on his shoulder to look him in the eye, smiling playfully. "No, what _do_ they say about us scholarly, well-read, incredibly intelligent witches?"

His grey eyes were glinting with mischief, his lips twitched. "That you're secretly Circe's daughters, set to seduce needy, horny men and trap us utterly with your wanton ways. It's quite tragic, actually, how easily we fall for such obvious scheming, too."

She lifted her head off his shoulder and pressed in close, leering at him through half-lidded eyes, her right hand roaming down to cup him over his pants and stroking up and down. Under her fingers, he began to harden. "Yes, you're reduced to being my willing sex slave. How awful that must be for you."

A golden eyebrow shot up in amusement. "It's absolutely horrible. You have no idea." His fingers rubbed over hers, forcing her harder against him and he took a deep breath through his nose, letting it out slowly. "I'm forced to be your most humble and obedient servant."

Hermione snorted delicately. "You, Draco Malfoy, are _never_ humble. As for obedient… Shall we see?" It was sufficiently warm enough now that she felt it might be all right to remove his jumper from his person. She slowly slid the garment up his body and he raised his arms above his head to help her remove it. It was the first piece to fall to the floor that afternoon.

"What are your plans for me then, oh mistress of mine?" he seductively tantalized with a slight tilting of his hips towards her. "Command and I will obey."

A very naughty thought crossed Hermione then, and she stood up and began removing her clothes, leaving her panties and bra on. She then moved to the cozy chair nearby, avoiding Draco's reaching hands, and sat back in it, lazily lounging like a queen. She felt powerful and sexy suddenly, especially with her lover looking at her like she was a piece of choice steak.

"Very well slave," she drawled in a low voice, trying to be seductive for the first time in her life. "I want you to remove the rest of your clothes for me. Every stitch."

His smirk wound up his cheek slowly and he glided into a standing position, complying with her request slowly. He kicked off his shoes, reached down and removed his socks, and then stood before her in his undershirt and pants alone. Watching her through half-mast eyes, smiling wickedly, he ran his hands over the length of his torso and crotch. Her eyes tracked the movement, enjoying the show. Very, very slowly, he began pulling up the white tee he wore, baring his gorgeous mid-section to her. Muscles rippled under smooth, alabaster skin as he flexed, and Hermione had a mental image of those same sinews tightening up and relaxing under her fingertips as he thrust into her their first time together. Her heart began pulsing away in her chest to a quickening staccato beat.

Gods, he was _so beautiful_! He was the devil incarnate – dazzling and wicked and entirely too tempting for sanity's sake.

When the shirt was gone, she let her eyes roam over his pecks, up to his shoulders, around and down his biceps and past his forearms to his powerfully, elegant hands. They were an interesting combination of strength and refinement, well manicured and yet she knew the pads to be a bit calloused from Quidditch. She imagined those long, pale fingers soaping her breasts under a spray of water and swallowed heavy. They moved now to unbuckle his belt.

Unconsciously, her hands had moved to her beasts, and she began stroking her nipples through the light blue fabric. The tiny buds hardened immediately and she closed her eyes for a nanosecond to enjoy the sensation before locking back onto Draco's hands, which were sliding his dragon-leather belt out of the loops. He tossed it to the floor with the rest.

She glanced up into his eyes briefly as he moved to unbutton his slacks. Silver motes of intensity gazed back. Licking her lips, she had to remind herself that she was the seducer here, not he. "Ask me to take my bra off," she commanded him.

His breathing skipped for a second. "Will you take your bra off for me?"

They watched each other across the space for several heartbeats, neither moving. Finally, she nodded and reached around to unclasp the hooks. Then, in a sultry manner, she shimmied the garment off her shoulders and watched him carefully as she slid the fabric away, dropping it to the floor at her side. His eyes stared hot daggers at her naked breasts, as she glided her fingers up over her flat tummy and cupped them, pushing up. She tilted her head back slightly and gasped, enjoying this game and the sensations. "Keep going," she breathed, noting he'd stopped moving to watch her. "Take it all off for me."

He unzipped and pulled the trousers down his legs, taking his boxers with them at the same time. When he stood upright again, he was fully bared – and proudly erect.

"Touch yourself," she bid, "Lightly. Up and down."

Draco's fingers wrapped about his cock and did as she wished. He hissed at the first pass, and she could tell he was incredibly sensitive. Heat bloomed up his neck into his cheeks and he shut his eyes. His hand never stopped moving though, leisurely passing over his length.

While he was distracted, she removed her knickers, and spread her legs, allowing him an unimpeded view of her kitty. She felt her own crimson blood flow through her face, hardly daring to believe that she could be this bold. And yet… she liked this nervous, naughty feeling at the same time. Her hands plucking her nipples again, she commanded him once more. "Look at me." He opened his eyes and his hand stopped. His breathing, however, picked up exponentially as he took her in. "Do you like what you see?" she asked, sliding one hand down to her cleft and barely touching her outer lips.

Draco nodded, enraptured by her. She felt so powerful and vibrantly alive just then, knowing she was doing this to him – the most wanted young man their age in all of England. "Keep touching yourself," she instructed as she began running her fingers lightly over her slit, teasing herself. Merlin almighty, she was soaking wet already! Apparently there was something _very_ provocative to voyeurism and subtle domination after all. Hermione filed that away for future reference.

As if only then noticing he'd stopped, he picked back up where he'd left off. "Do you want me to come this way?" he asked her, his strokes increasing slightly in rhythm.

She thought about it. "Can you go again after?" she asked, teasing her own entrance torturously.

He nodded. "This time, I think it's possible."

Giving him a sensuous smile, she licked her lips again. "Then yes, I want you to come this way."

Letting out a shuddering breath, his hand intensified its stroking. "Will you touch yourself for me, too? Please."

It didn't need to be said that she would grant his request, as her fingers were already dipping between her folds to stroke up and down, lighting teasing her clit. She drew in a breath sharply at the exquisite little licks of electricity arcing through her again. "I'm so wet for you," she muttered, leaning back into the chair cushion. There were no arm rests, but she didn't need them at the moment, one hand fully engrossed with pinching her left nipple, the other moving to pierce her entry. She tucked her knees up and put her heels on the cushion, creating a more erotic pose as she finally slipped two fingers into herself with a moan.

Draco answered with a groan of his own, his stroking speeding up. He licked his lips, panting now. "I'm going to come soon," he told her.

"Touch yourself below," she trembled at the mental image of her own request. "Spread your legs and touch your sack how you like."

His breath exploded out of him in a dark huff of amazement, but he did as she bade, rolling his fingers over his testicles, widening his stance and continuing to glide over himself at a good, steady pace. Matching his rhythm, she inserted her fingers lightly into her channel, watching his hands and his face equally. She could tell when he was close, as he tightened up all of those luscious muscles and sped up again, tilting his head back, exposing his throat, his breathing hot and heavy.

"That's it. Come for me, Draco," she bid, removing her fingers from self-pleasuring to watch him instead. "Come hard."

He gasped, strained, his face took on an almost pained expression, and finally with a shout of bliss, pearly liquid shot out of him, dripping all over his hand, some arching into the air to fall into the space between them. He kept shoving over himself even after the first eruption, moaning in ecstasy, jerking his hips as more and more semen exploded outward. It took a good ten seconds before the orgasm moved past and his hand stilled. Then, he was on her.

Kneeling on the cushion between her legs, and leaning back a bit, he pulled her hips up, aligned their bodies perfectly, and slammed into her with one thrust. He fucked her fast and hard, and all Hermione could do was grip the edges of the chair and hold on. "Take me," he grit between his teeth harshly. "Take it all, baby."

She wailed when he pumped into her so deep that he crashed against her cervix. "_Yes!_" she screamed, feeling her climax burst through unexpectedly, red and white exploding behind her eyelids, her internal muscles rippling and contracting powerfully, pulling him deeper into her. "_DRACO, YES!_"

He grunted, his pace brutally continuing, and then he tensed up again and knocked into her firmly. "Gods, baby," he groaned and came in her, marrying their cores for a second. "Take me, take me, _take me!_" He punctuated each word with a forceful, near brutal drive of his hips, continuing to shoot into her until every last drop was drained.

When he collapsed, sated and exhausted, she caught him in her arms, wrapping her legs around his waist and dragging him down to share the cushion with her. She crawled into his lap. Their breathing was forced out of both of them, their chests heaving, and against his chest, she could feel his heart hammering, the same as hers. Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, resting her fingers in his hair, she struggled to return to normalcy.

Many minutes later, they pulled apart and stared at each other. Draco smiled, surprise evident on his face and in his tone. "That was _the_ hottest fuck I've ever had, luv," he confessed, rubbing lightly over her spine. "You are _absolutely_ amazing."

Inside, Hermione's ego ran in circles of happiness. She grinned teasingly. "You're welcome."

He chuckled and kissed her thoroughly, lapping at her lips, coaxing her tongue with his own. "I want to do you again," he admitted, thrusting their still connected bodies against the back of the chair cushion, his legs spread open to either side. "Give me twenty minutes?"

Hermione's heart did a lunging somersault despite her exhausted body's protest. Feeling him still lodged deep inside her channel did something to her libido, too, resetting it. She nodded. "Make me scream your name again, slave," she commanded with a playful ogle, leaning in to nibble on his throat.

He bit her back, marking her sensitive skin right over her pulse. "Oh, I intend to… mistress."

X~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~X

Herbology Lecture-Lab was something of a torture for Teddy, despite Potter's partnering, because no matter how he tried to focus, he simply couldn't stop peeking glances at Daphne's profile. She seemed oblivious to his attentions, though, raptly taking notes in class, and then concentrating hard on their lab assignment: harvesting the Dap Lotus (literally 'Dead Lotus'), a rare and very dangerous member of the _Nelumbo_ genus – one of the very few carnivorous plants in the world that could kill and eat human beings, like _U. triffidus_.

"Remember," Professor Sprout cautioned, walking about the rows, watching her students very closely. "_Nelumbo Nex_'s barb in the center of the rhizome netting is where the poison it kept. Refrain from touching those roots. We're after the flower and seeds only."

Looking down at the black, satin petals, Teddy sighed. "So, which do you want to tackle?" he asked Potter, indicating the flower in the large water bowl before them. The liquid was red, as it contained animal blood, the flower's main source of nutrition.

Harry looked at the plant once, then over at Teddy and grinned. "Petals, obviously," he optioned, taking the easiest assignment.

Rolling his eyes, Teddy moved aside so Harry could complete his part of the work. As he did so, his gaze moved once more unconsciously to Daphne, who had her hair up in a long ponytail. Shorter wisps were left free to fall, and they did so now into her eyes. She blew them back, concentrating on extracting each petal with a steel tweezer, being sure not to tear the delicate items. She deposited each one in a small ceramic bowl that Sprout had supplied the teams. Her partner, Ernie Macmillan, watched in the background, standing a little too close for comfort, Teddy thought.

"She's going to notice, you know," Potter murmured low enough for only the two of them to hear. As if by unspoken assent, the two had chosen the far back of the room to work, so there was no one else nearby for several meters.

Teddy pulled his gazed immediately away and zeroed in on Harry. "Don't know what you mean."

The guy merely smirked, never having taken his attention away from his task. "Sure."

They labored in relative silence after that, and Teddy purposefully kept his eyes on his assignment after that.

When lab broke up, he and Harry headed for the dining hall for lunch. Again, by silent agreement, Potter moved to join Teddy at Slytherin's table (after giving a kiss to his girlfriend, the Weasley girl, who didn't seem the least bit upset or jealous that Harry was choosing to sit with a friend – a Slytherin, no less - instead of his own woman). There was, however, a momentary pause by almost Teddy's entire House - as well as many others in the room who had curiously stopped to watch - but then things went back to normal as soon as the famous war hero casually draped his arm into the center of the table and ordered a tall glass of milk, seemingly unconcerned with the flapping mouths and suspicious eyes.

"So, you and Greengrass, then?" Potter asked nonchalantly, digging into a turkey and cucumber sandwich. He chewed and swallowed before Teddy could think of an appropriate – and safe – reply. "I was sure you'd try for 'Mione a month ago."

Sputtering his tea all over the table, Teddy coughed on his drink, nearly choking. When he'd regained his mental balance, he hastily cleaned up the mess with his wand. "I've got nothing for Granger," he growled, lying through his teeth, concentrating on the table top instead of those damned piercing, seemingly all-knowing eyes across the table from him. Tossing his wand back into his bag, he looked about, noting that they were pretty isolated at the end of the table, where Teddy preferred to sit. He sighed, running a hand through his long bangs to get them off his face. "How'd you know?"

He swung his gaze around in time to see Potter shrug. "It was obvious mate, to anyone who knew what to look for."

Bitterly, Teddy picked at his crisps on his plate, picking them up and tossing them back down without taking a single bite. "Yeah, well, that's not going to happen now, is it?" His jaw twitched unconsciously. "She's Drake's."

Potter said nothing for a minute, chewing thoughtfully on his food. "I won't lie to you. It's going to hurt for a while. Hermione's hard to get over. But you'll move past it," he finally said confidently, taking another big bite.

Teddy sniffed disdainfully. "And how would you know?"

They locked gazes – bizarre mismatched eyes met dark jade. Potter finished chomping and gulped his mouthful. "Because you're not the only one who lost her to a best friend," he laid his cards on the table evenly.

To say he was shocked was the understatement of the year. Teddy assumed that, like Granger, Potter only thought of his counterpart as a friend – a sister even. Now, staring into those deep, weighty emeralds, Teddy knew there was more secreted away within Harry Potter's heart than even he'd guessed.

Looking down in embarrassment into his plate, Teddy felt his hands begin shaking, knowing the morning's potion was beginning to wear off, and he'd have to finish up quick here to get to the bathroom so he could down another vial in a stall before his one o'clock class. "Look, don't mention it to Granger, right? She doesn't know."

Potter raised a dark eyebrow, his scar wrinkling as a result. "She knows. So does Malfoy."

Teddy shut his eyes, ashamed, and grit his jaw. Fuck. How could he look either of them in the eye again?

"Listen, mate, neither of them are upset about it, you know," Harry informed him sensitively. "A person can't help how he feels."

"How the hell do you _know_ everything, Potter?" he softly snarled, suddenly very angry – with himself and with the situation. How could he have let things get this far with her knowing how she felt about Drake? He felt stupid, and that was an emotion Teddy was not comfortable with.

"Because I'm The Chosen One," his friend replied so flippantly that Teddy opened his eyes incredulously at the sheer audacity of such a comment. A teasing grin was plastered to Potter's mutt, and he adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose with an arrogant flip.

Instantly, the mood shifted and Teddy found himself chuckling. "You're a fucking twist, mate," he complimented. "Had me going there for a sec."

"At least you're laughing finally," Harry commented, bringing his sandwich to his mouth. "Haven't done that in a while."

Teddy thought about it. The guy was right, he abruptly realized. He hadn't had a good laugh in a long time. There hadn't been much to be that happy about lately.

A thought occurred to Potter then. Teddy saw it slide through the other man's eyes. He glimpsed down the table towards Daphne. "You know she likes you, right?"

Teddy followed his gaze, barely seeing his ex's face in the crowd at the opposite end of the table. "We used to date, in Fifth Year."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, that was obvious, too." He swung back to Teddy again. "Do you still like her?"

Strangely, Teddy found himself not in the least bit worried about divulging private information to this strange young man across from him. In no time at all, he'd formed a friendship with someone he'd never in his life thought he'd ever even shake hands with. "Not sure," he admitted truthfully. "There was bad blood between us. It's why I've spent the last two years ignoring her."

"Was?"

Damn, Potter always picked up on things, didn't he? "Was," he stated firmly, not wanting to discuss the details of the change.

Harry was quiet for a few minutes, giving Teddy's brain a rest, thankfully. They ate their sandwiches and crisps in quiet inner contemplation. Well, mostly. Teddy actually spent the majority of that time wondering what scheme was running through Potter's brain.

"Gotcha," was all the messy-haired wizard said in response.

For some reason, that one word shot a spike of pure unadulterated adrenaline through Teddy. He glanced up quickly, but Potter was finishing off his sandwich, apparently oblivious to the close regard he was receiving (Teddy was betting it was quite the contrary, though). What game was his new friend up to playing? Did he intend on sticking his nose into Teddy's business with Daphne, or letting it slide? He almost didn't want to know.

X~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~X

Later that evening, the _Evening Prophet_ arrived via owl. Hermione slyly intercepted it in the kitchen once more, where the newspaper was traditionally delivered. She scanned it, only to find yet another piece on the front page talking about the Death Eaters, detailing each one who'd escaped, and making yet another snarky comment about Lucius' death being the only one reported thus far (intimating that perhaps his was the only one that the followers of Voldemort had thought worth avenging, since his son had betrayed them).

Holding her fury in check, she quickly read through the rest of the paper. At the Obituaries, she stopped. There in black and white was a penned testimony to Lucius Malfoy, and she recognized the curt style to know it had been Draco's hand that had written it:

_**Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, Baron of Swindon**_

_**February 2, 1954 – November 24, 1997**_

_**Born in Wiltshire, England in the family's ancestral home. Son of Abraxas Cassius Malfoy and Elizabeth Anne Malfoy (nee Burke), both deceased. Attended Hogwarts School of Witchraft and Wizardry from 1965-1972, Slytherin House, Quidditch Captain and Keeper from 1970-1972. Member of the Board of Regents from 1990-1995. Awards: Order of the Pearl, 1989, for dedication to Ministry service; Order of the Laurel, 1995, for dedication to educational success. Survived by wife, Narcissa Orla Malfoy (nee Black), and son, Draco Lucius Malfoy. **_

That was all – no mention of how he died (most likely because that bint, Braithwaite had already told the world the details so there was no need to reiterate the obvious), or when and where the memorial services were going to be held (of course, that didn't rightly matter, since Hermione and Draco had sat down and penned letters and owl'd them out to all the family and friends that her boyfriend wanted to notify of the specifics – after their incredible afternoon of sex, that was). There was also absolutely no mention of Lucius' ties to the Dark Lord or his stint in Azkaban, again for obvious reasons. There _was,_ however, a rather fetching picture of a proud, aristocratic Lucius looking into a camera included with the obituary. He did not so much as twitch for the camera, despite the fact the picture was a "moving" one. For that, Hermione was thankful.

Tucking the chronicle under her arm, she had Binky apparate up the evening meal to Narcissa, and she took the paper to her room for safe keeping. She was sure, at some point, either Lady Malfoy or Draco would want to scrapbook it for posterity. The Malfoys did, after all, keep a meticulous record of their family history, according to her lover.

After that, she went down to find Draco to join him for dinner, and then when they finished, she hurried back to his room to finish up some homework, which she intended on owling off to Hogwarts tomorrow morning before breakfast.

X~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~X

That night, after dinner and consuming another potion (he was up to three now in one day just to function), Teddy dropped into the library for some quiet study. What he found, however, was quite the opposite.

There, at a table in the corner, was Daphne, writing up her Herbology assignment, no doubt. Her quill was sideways in her mouth as she dipped her head into her bag to pull out a book. Her long, blonde hair swished against the back of the chair as she moved.

He was about to move on to his favorite study space when motion from the side caught his attention. Stephen Cornfoot approached Daphne, apparently making small talk. Teddy ducked around the shelf and watched through the stack, internally berating himself for feeling like any of this was his business to begin with even as he felt compelled to snoop.

His ex- was friendly to the tall Ravenclaw, but not overly so, he noticed. She held her smile in reserve, but stared the guy in the eye as they talked. Two minutes into their discussion, she grabbed her ponytail and yanked it once, then shook her head. Cornfoot said something else, and a panicked look came into her eyes. She quickly gathered her things, shaking her head again to something Stephen postulated, shoved her books and her quill into her bag haphazardly and with an audible "Good night," to the other man, she took off. "Daphne, wait!" the shave-headed brunette boy called after her, but Teddy's long-legged ex- made like a gazelle scurrying away from a predator. There was no backward glance, simply a fast retreat.

For a moment, Teddy almost confronted Stephen on affronting Greengrass, when he mentally restrained himself. Daphne was not his concern. She hadn't been for two years. He had no right interfering.

Much to his interest, he noticed that Cornfoot seemed confused and frustrated by what had just happened, as if he'd just been denied something he'd really wanted. He kicked the desk Daphne had been occupying previously and stomped off. Clearly, Mr. Smooth had just been shot down in an attempt to get closer to Daphne. For some reason – one Teddy refused to delve into deeply right at that moment - he felt a little measure of _Schadenfreude_ over the other guy's obvious rejection.

X~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~X

Wendell & Phells Funeral Home in downtown Wiltshire had remained open a few hours after their normal business closing time specifically because Draco had asked them to (actually, he'd thrown down a bag of galleons to make it worth their while, if truth be known). He'd just finished the arduous task of rifling through his father's closet to pick out the perfect outfit to bury the man in, and he had been hellbent to turn it over tonight and get that difficult chore off his shoulders.

Emotionally weary from the errand, he returned home and made his way into his room, already removing his robes. He opened the door to hear Hermione already in the bath, the splash of water echoing off the tile. Charming the door for silence and locking it behind him, he stripped off his clothes and went to join her.

What started out as an innocent game of washing each other down with a soapy cloth turned into more quickly – as was always the case when he was with Granger. Dragging her out of the tub and hastily drying them both with a fluffy towel, he brought her over to the couch in front of his fireplace and sat down, making her straddle him. "I believe, it's your turn to service me, slave," he drawled with a wicked smirk.

She actually paused to consider it!

"Okay, what would you like me to do?"

He lightly spanked her bottom. "What would you like me to do… _master_?" he pointed out her error.

She mimicked his question in the proper format this time, and he rewarded her with a kiss. "A surprise, pet," he grinned, then called for Binky. The house elf appeared in an instant. He informed the creature as to what he wanted brought up right away, and within eight minutes, a tray apparated up from the kitchens onto the narrow coffee table before them. Flipping Hermione off of him, he instructed her to lay back into the sofa and stood up. She complied, as he knelt down before her on the floor and turned towards the first bowl.

"You realize we're going to need another bath after this?" she asked, grinning.

Draco nodded. "That's why I left the water," he informed her slyly and proceeded to decorate her body with different sweets – hot fudge, whipping cream, melted caramel – swirling them around her body using his fingers up over her collar, down her throat, into the dip of her elbows, and across her abdomen. He coated her breasts, dipping each one into a bowl of sauce and proceeded to lick every bit off, lingering on her nipples extra long. He coated her lips with pink sugar crystals, and fed her strawberries, licking the juice off her chin and mouth. He dipped double cream into the curls between her legs (just like his dream all those weeks ago) and rubbed a slice of a fresh, succulent peach through it and between her slit, then they shared it.

Throughout it all, Hermione moaned, whimpered, spasmed, and when he finally brought his mouth down between her legs to clean the cream off of her, she came hard, crying out his name, her hands running through his hair, gripping it tightly.

He'd been slowly stroking himself throughout all the attention he'd given her, and now he was rearing to feel her mouth around him. He pushed her legs further apart and knelt between them, guiding her head to his aching cock.

"Take me in, slave," he bid in a honeyed voice, and without hesitation, she wrapped her mouth around him and sank down, going as deep as possible on that first parting of her lips. He touched the back of her throat and hissed between his teeth at the exquisite feeling of her tightening around him as she pulled back. "You really have a magic mouth, baby," he complimented as her head dropped back over him. One of her tiny hands caressed its way from his hip, down his thigh and up between his legs to begin fondling his balls. He gasped, the pressure of molten lava beginning to build. "Damn, do that again," he begged, having felt her tongue tickle the bottom of his shaft on the upstroke. She repeated the action to his tip, slipping her tongue into the tiny slit, and then swiping around his crown languidly. "Yes," he encouraged with a slow exhale of breath, twining his fingers through her messy, wet hair.

In less than three minutes, he was ready to come. Hermione's mouth did things to him that made him physically shake with repressed desire. Apparently, her imagination was on par with her willingness to try new things and to please him, and he gave her free reign to touch him and taste him as she wanted, trying hard to hold back his own urgings. He stopped her right when he was on the brink, and pulled out of her mouth only to sit down on the sofa next to her and pull her up over him. Gripping himself in hand, he guided his tip into her entrance, and then grabbing her hips, thrust her down hard and fast, impaling her on his shaft. "Fuck me," he commanded her, gripping her breasts and kneading, taking her sticky left nipple between his teeth and suckling, continuing to taste syrupy goodness on her skin. With her hands supported on the back of the couch on either side of him, she moved up and down fiercely, forcing him to let her breast go and to grab a hold of her hips again. They watched each other as they mounted their shared pleasure, their breaths exploding across each other's faces as they worked towards a powerful orgasm.

"I love you," he gasped, trying to hold back for her, keeping that burning sensation down with tense mental discipline. "I love you _so much_, Granger."

She bent her head and took his lips. "I love you, too, Draco." She repeated herself over and over as her mouth pressed against his neck and she gave him every ounce of herself. "Oh… _oooh_… I'm going to… _Draco_!"

"Come on me," he bid, thrusting up at the same time as she shoved downward, and she flew apart, crying out her pleasure against his throat, her whole body rocking and vibrating and squeezing. It pulled him into her forcefully, and with a shout of his own, he came deep inside her body, his arms going around her middle to pull her down tight onto his penis. He felt his seed flow up into her, and her body milked him, and for a split second, he again wished they didn't have to cast the contraceptive charm.

They held onto each other tightly. Finally, she pulled back a bit and stared down at him, a fresh smirk on her pretty, flushed, sweaty face. "That was quite… acceptable… master," she joked.

Draco raised an eyebrow at her sauciness. "Acceptable?"

Her grin was positively, gleefully mischievous and she wiggled on him teasingly. "I think you did better when I was in charge, though," she challenged.

He huffed and gently threw her off to the side of the sofa, pulling out of her at the same moment. "You just like me as your whipping boy," he commented dryly and stood up, stretching, his joints popping. Man, he was exhausted. They'd fucked a lot today. But then, that was to be expected, considering they'd just started having sex and couldn't seem to get enough of each other.

She grabbed him around the waist. "How can you say that?" she asked stricken, but he saw the shimmer in her eyes telling him she was setting him up for verbal sparring. "I've never even _had_ the chance to whip you yet!"

Draco couldn't help the laugh that rumbled out of his chest and he skived around in her arms until her chin met the top of his abs. He could _definitely_ get used to this type of banter every day for the rest of his life. "I've created a monster," he chuckled, stroking down her left cheek with two fingers gently, tucking her hair behind her ear. "I've got my very own corrupted, little Gryffindor to cuddle up with at night."

She kissed the palm of his hand and rubbed her cheek against it lovingly, looking up at him with shining, teasing eyes. "That's good marketing, Malfoy. We could use it to sell our own line of toys - 'Corruptible Gryffindors.' We could put them on shelf right next to 'Cold Hearted Snakes' or 'Back Stabbing Slytherins' - in honor of you, of course. We could be _rich_ and _famous_!"

He waggled his eyebrows at her, smirking audaciously. "Baby, I already _am_ those things."

* * *

**CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE: MENTAL**

_**Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire, England**_

_**& Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland **_

_**Thursday, November 27, 1997**_

"You get those flowers sent, Potter?" Zabini called from across the dining hall that morning in a rather booming, deep bass that carried and echoed against the high, stone walls and ceiling.

Almost instantly, the Great Hall grew hushed, conversations whispered as everyone strained to hear the response. Many of the people there – all of Slytherin house, all of the teachers, and many students from the rest of the Houses – had contributed something towards Lucius' funerary flowers. It was enough to purchase an entire room full of blooms, in fact (which is exactly what Harry had done via owl just that afternoon to a florist McGonagall personally recommended). The reason so many had given was simple: word went around the school that week (restated by Harry on Monday) that Malfoy had helped save them all from Voldemort, and had almost died in the process (which wasn't untrue, given his face off with two powerful Death Eaters in single combat). Out of respect for that heroism, the money had poured in.

"Yes, Zabini, it's all taken care of. I sent the order this morning," Potter called back, making sure everyone heard him.

"Good," Blaise called back. "Thanks."

That was all that was said between them, but it was enough. They each gave a nod, and then returned to eating and conversing as usual with their friends.

"Thanks for taking the initiative on that," Teddy said, looking down at his plate and feeling rather lame about the whole thing. He knew he was one of Drake's best friends, and it should have been him who'd taken the lead on something this important, but he also knew that if he had, the donations pile would have been pretty pathetic indeed. Teddy wasn't a charismatic big-to-do like Harry Potter, and he probably couldn't have convinced people to part with their cash in the same way that The Boy Who Conquered could.

Potter merely shrugged. "It just sort of happened," he humbly replied around a bite.

Teddy grinned. "Yeah, that happens a lot to you, I noticed." There was a chuckle from those nearby who overheard.

"Harry can't help it. He has a way with happenstance," Ginny chimed in, smooching her boyfriend on the cheek quickly. Potter actually blushed, which had Teddy chuckling darkly at him. Harry threw a scone at him and hit him in the head. Teddy threw one back and accidentally hit Finnegan in the back of the head when Harry ducked (damn those Seeker reflexes!). Seamus hurled a breakfast sausage in retaliation, only to accidentally have it wallop poor Lavendar Brown on the cheek when Teddy leaned back and let the thing fly past his nose. Ron's girlfriend stood up, face furious, looking for blood. Picking her full plate up, she calmly walked over to the Irishman and dumped it over his head.

"FOOD FIGHT!" someone unexpectedly yelled, and the room literally erupted with screams, people ducking and others hurling handfuls of food. Fruit, tomato slices, fried bread, gobs of scrambled and fried egges, and tattie scones went soaring every which way. Pumpkin juice and spiced tea was hurled out of mugs haphazardly or dumped on top of unsuspecting heads purposefully. Bangers became hazards to nostrils. And yet, all of that would have been forgivable had someone not catapulted several bowls of porridge using their wand and a cleverly modified _Wingardium Leviosa_ over the whole room. To squeals of delight and horror, students, tables and benches (as well as the walls in many places) were soon covered in a nasty looking gooey, gushy, lumpy mess.

A rather scary, "SILENCE!" reverberated throughout the hall and everyone froze, knowing they were busted. Dumbledore had come. Guilty as charged.

Not even bothering to try to step through the mess, the Headmaster simply looked about the whole room, and twinkle in his devilish blue eyes, a grin working hard to suppress itself behind the overgrown beard. Teddy could see the old man found the whole thing rather amusing. "Although we could all use a chance to… how do you say?... let our hair down," the professor began, "I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask each and every one of you to help clean up this mess now. Play time's over." With that, he walked away – but not before dipping his finger into a mess of yellow-gray colored goop on one table and sampling it with a curious expression. Figuring out the ingredients, he grinned. "Ah," was all he said, and then he turned and walked away, hands behind his back, whistling.

The row of teachers in the doorway of the Great Hall were of mixed reception: some of them, like Sprout, Burbage, Grubbly-Plank and Flitwick were obviously on the side of Dumbledore, hiding smirks behind hands; others, like McGonagall, Hooch and Snape, were clearly unamused; Trelawney and Slughorn wore expressions of disbelief; while Babbling, Sinistra and Vector simply turned and walked away, resuming some earlier discussion that had been interrupted by the commotion; and finally, Binns was, as usual, nowhere to be seen.

Ushered around by the three disapproving professors mostly, the room quickly was cleaned up, and students were magicked spotless once more. McGonagall tried to get out of anyone who had started and participated in the fight, but not a single student was talking. For the first time in probably all of Hogwarts history, the four houses stood united in not ratting each other out. Luckily, no points were taken for such a bold move.

"Well, I'd say that was a _most_ refreshing start to the day," Potter grinned, having enjoyed himself immensely. Next to him, most of Gryffindor House nodded in approval.

Teddy smirked, pointing a finger at his new friend in part respect, part disbelief. "You, Potter, are insane," he finally decided. "Absolutely, utterly nutters."

Next to him, Ron snorted and clapped Teddy on the back in friendship. "Obviously, mate. Who else in their right mind would ever willingly face down Voldemort? Only someone completely mental, that's who."

That, Teddy realized, was _exactly_ the perfect sentiment to sum up Harry James Potter: mental. For once, Ronald Weasley talked sense.

X~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~X

Draco almost dropped his morning tea in his lap when the doors to the dining hall opened and his mother stepped through. Accompanied by the house elf, Binky (who walked several steps behind and watched the lady of the house worriedly), Narcissa's normally confident and smooth walk was a bit stiff, but the woman held her head up high, that air of aristocratic superiority back. As she approached, he and Hermione both automatically stood out of deference, and he swerved around the table to meet her just a few steps from her traditional seat on the right of the head. He kissed her cheek as he greeted her, trying to keep the quavering out of his voice. "Good morning, mother."

His mother cleared her throat daintily. "Good morning, my son," she rasped. Her voice was rather raw, obviously from all the crying she'd been doing.

He drew her chair out for her and tucked her into it, then hesitated to retake the seat he had recently occupied – at the head, his father's usual place. Seeing his pause, his mother waved him on. "It is yours now, after all, dear."

Doing as she indicated, he sat back down in front of his half-eaten plate of homemade Belgium waffles topped with heavy whipping cream and fruit, amazed with the strength his mum was fronting. Hermione followed suit, sitting back down at her spot to his left. "Good morning, Lady Malfoy," she gently greeted, her hands in her lap, staring at the other woman evenly.

His mother placed her napkin in her lap, while Binky apparated down to the kitchens to fetch her breakfast. "Good morning, child," she returned composedly, reaching for her morning tea and pouring it herself, waving Draco to remain seated and to let her do this much on own. "And how do you find our home? Are the accommodations to your liking? Are you being well attended?"

Hermione didn't miss a beat, flowing into the conversation easily, as if she'd been expecting this type of oddly distant reception from this mother. "The Manor is quite stunning, m'lady. And the house elves are wonderful. Thank you for allowing me into your home."

Binky appeared in a small crack with a plate of waffles for the mistress, placing it before her and offering her services. Draco's mother dismissed the creature with a nod of thanks and Binky smiled then returned to the kitchens with another splintering snap of her fingers. "Nonsense. It is I who must thank you for coming to stay with my son these past few days. You have been a great comfort to us both."

Draco watched Hermione dip her head in modest embarrassment. "I'm… glad I could help out."

There was an awkward pause as his mother sipped her tea from the delicate Royal Doulton Bone China cup, her hawkish gaze focused on Hermione, who didn't squirm, but looked up and merely stared back composedly. Draco watched them, unsure as to whether he should interfere or not. He knew his mother was sizing up his lover, considering her potential and whether she would make an acceptable wife for him as the woman had _that_ game face on.

Finally, Narcissa put her cup down and turned to him, the weight of her blue topaz eyes falling upon his heart. "I assume you've been… taking care of arrangements… for your father's…" At this, she stumbled, took a breath to compose herself and continued on. "Legal and financial matters."

Draco nodded. "Yes, mother, it's taken care of already. And… tomorrow…" Now it was his turn to stumble. Hermione's hand was on his in an instant, squeezing, giving him support. He bucked his courage, forced his tears back once more. "Tomorrow afternoon is the memorial - on the grounds, at the family crypt, as father wished. Wendell & Phells are handling the arrangements. Hermione and I sent notifications out to the families and friends already."

There was another painful pause and then his mother asked the really tough question: "Did you… arrange for the hospital to return his possessions - the ones he was wearing? I would like to… keep his wedding band… and cane."

He almost lost it right there. Only Hermione's firm touch kept him from breaking down like a child again. He sniffed and cleared his throat to regain control instead. "The funeral directorship will bring all of that back tomorrow. I sent them the proper robes and ordered the finest casket for the interment, of course."

His mother nodded. "Of course." Her voice sounded very small again, as if all the vigor she'd previously had was leaking away under the weight of the awful finality of the situation.

There was silence for so long that Draco was sure a feather could be heard to drop. It was, strangely enough, Hermione who saved them both from wallowing in their sorrow. "Lady Malfoy, I wondered if you felt up to… well… showing me your favorite room in the house? Draco still hasn't given me a _proper_ tour."

She said it with an undercurrent of goading, and Draco was suddenly rather angry with her selfish request – until he looked up and saw the effect the appeal had on his mother, and understood its purpose. Lady Malfoy's eyebrows shot up, and she stared at Hermione for what may possibly have been the second longest thirty seconds in history (the first being Potter's final encounter with the Dark Lord), clearly unsure as to whether to take offense or to be amused by the odd request. Then, the hint of a small smile plucked her lips, as if she understood the unspoken risk Hermione had taken and appreciated the gesture. "I'm sure my oaf of a son has shown you little more than his bedroom." Draco felt his cheeks flush at his mother's intimation (accurate though it may be), and out of the corner of his eye, caught Hermione's face redden as well. "And I could certainly use a little exercise. After breakfast then?"

His lover smiled and nodded. "I'd like that very much."

Narcissa bent and began cutting her waffles up with precise, delicate concentration, no longer slumping in her chair, but with her back ramrod straight. In her eyes, Draco was surprised to see, a small fire had been ignited. Distraction was clearly what his mother needed right now to keep her from wallowing in the pits of despair - just as he had occasionally this week. And Hermione, he knew (but in the best way possible), was nothing if not distracting.

He squeezed her hand in thanks and they shared a secret smile.

X~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~X

N.E.W.T. Prep Lecture was two hours of sheer misery for Teddy. His breakfast momentum had waned and now he wasn't feeling at all well, his potions obviously not having as good an effect on him today for some reason. Forcing himself to sit still and listen to Binns drone on about famous witches and wizards captured during the Inquisition and their eventual demise (Wendelin the Weird – the prankster witch with the rather twisted sense of humor, who had enjoyed getting in various disguises and allowed herself to be faux burned at the stake - was an anomaly, apparently), fisting his hands in his lap to keep the shaking to a minimum, he charmed his quill to take notes for him and closed his eyes, focusing on his breathing, trying to keep it even and calm.

When class ended, he packed up and hurried out, heading to the dungeons instead of lunch, deciding he'd grab two potions this time. He made it as far as the dungeon corridor where the bathrooms were before he stumbled into one of them and puked his guts out. When his breakfast was done coming up, he shakily got to his feet again and over to the sink, rinsing his mouth out. A cool cloth pressed itself to his forehead and he jumped back in automatic fear, his heart slamming under his ribs with the surprise.

"It's just me," Daphne murmured gently to him, her damp kerchief in her hand, extended out to him. "Take it. You look like you need it."

Breathing hard, it took Teddy more than a few seconds to put things together in his head. He was rather slow on the uptake today. "How did you know to find me?" he asked, not reaching for her offer, instead glancing at her suspiciously.

"I saw you pass the Great Hall in a hurry and followed you," she admitted. "You look awful, Theo."

He swallowed and stepped back towards the sink, running the cold tap and splashing the water onto his face and back of his neck. "Thanks," he dryly stated. "Just what I wanted to hear." He rinsed his mouth again. "What are you doing in the boy's bathroom anyway?"

In the reflection in the mirror, Daphne's right eyebrow rose. "This is the girl's room, Theo," she pointedly told him.

He blinked and looked around. It looked exactly the same as the men's loo. Strange, he'd always assumed the female powder would be pink with scalloped mirrors and pretty bogs with curtained u-bends. "Oh," was all he could think to say, a tad embarrassed. He leaned on the sink and closed his eyes, trying to regain some semblance of control over his trembling limbs. "Why'd you follow me? I thought we talked about this."

Without missing a beat, Daphne replied rather firmly. "No, _you_ talked. I listened."

"Silence conveys consent," he uttered the old adage.

Tinkling laughter echoed off the tile. "No, silence means the other person is considering your words carefully before replying," she drolly informed him. "I'm a Slytherin, not a Gryffindor. I think before I act."

He snorted. "Don't I know it," he replied snidely before he shut his mouth, feeling instant remorse for the spiteful comment. Daphne had finally explained what had caused them to fall apart, changing his conception of events drastically, and he'd decided last night that what she'd said was probably (most likely) the truth. And yet he'd fallen instantaneously back on his old ways of treating her with unkind, cutting words. He shouldn't be shooting his mouth off to her. She didn't deserve his scorn – especially since she'd followed him here to help him out. "Sorry," he apologized ineptly. "I didn't mean that."

"Yes, you did," his ex- stated matter-of-factly. The hand with the handkerchief lowered finally back to her side, and she began wringing it out in one of the other sinks along the counter. A frown marred her beautiful Pureblood features. "I'm the one who's sorry," she continued, her hands squeezing the small strip of cloth rather violently now. "Sorry I ever cared for you." With that, she turned and headed for the door.

Teddy took two steps to grab her and halt her so he could apologize sincerely when the room spun. The next thing he knew, he was laying on his side, and his head hurt something fierce. Daphne was leaning over him, squatted down on her ankles. From this angle, he absently noted that he could see right up her skirt; she was wearing red knickers.

"What the heck are you grinning about?" she asked concernedly. She held up three fingers in front of his eyes. "Must be a concussion. How many fingers do you see?"

He answered correctly, but Daphne was still not convinced of his health. She hunched down onto her knees, which made her skirt ride up rather far on her left side, revealing that she was, in fact, wearing _lacy_ red panties – something she didn't seem to notice – as she bent and gently lifted his head, pressing two fingers to the side of his skull. She pressed and he gasped as ice picks stabbed into his brain. "You have a nasty goose egg," she confirmed. "But thankfully, it's not bleeding. You're lucky I've been taking private instruction from Madam Pomfrey for the last year." With that, she lowered his head and raised her wand, waving it over him. Instantly, he felt the pain subside and his vision return to one-hundred percent.

"How many fingers now?" she asked, holding up one.

"One," he smirked. "Nice knickers, by the way."

Her eyes widened and shot to her skirt, and she with a huff of indignation, she stood, lowering the woolen fabric with a harsh tug. "Men!" she yelped. "You're all the same! Even injured all you can think about is sex."

Teddy got his shoulder under him and pushed, stopping for a second to adjust and shaking his head back and forth. Daphne's spell casting was first rate; he felt absolutely no pain, nausea, or shakes anymore. "You never wore red for me," he teased, gaining his feet at last. "As I recall, it was always cotton whites."

Collecting her bag from the floor, Daphne sniffed, turning her nose in the air. "Pig," she insulted with as much muster as she could. "Here I come to help you, and you insult my choice of lingerie."

Teddy rubbed the side of his head, then pushed his shoulder-length hair back and retied it with the leather throng. "You never wore lingerie for me either," he wittily reminded her. He grabbed his own bag on the floor and headed for the door. His ex-girlfriend didn't bother to reply; in fact, she was quiet too long, so he turned and looked back at her, just as he reached for the door handle to pull it open.

"I think you should go see Madam Pomfrey," she suggested. "You hit your head pretty hard, and I'm not sure my spell worked."

Teddy's eyebrows shot down. "I feel perfectly fine," he confirmed. "Better than fine, actually. Whatever you did, it worked not just on my head. I feel much better all over."

Daphne continued to stare at him with confusion and concern. "It's just that…" She stopped herself, shutting her mouth and turning her gaze to the floor. "You're acting odd. You're flirting with me."

Immediately, Teddy moved to deny it. "I did not."

She glanced up again, obstinate this time. "You were commenting on my choice of underwear, Theo. What is that if not flirting?"

That flat-footed him totally. He _had _been playing coquet with her, hadn't he? He turned his head so she couldn't read him and thought of a way out of this predicament. He hadn't meant to flirt; it had just happened. "I blame the concussion," he lamely excused, knowing the moment it left his mouth what her retort would be.

"I fixed that for you _before_ you opened your mouth about my red knickers. Try again."

He sighed. Did he really want to be having this conversation with her? Hell, did he even want to consider the fact that she'd been right? The teasing had just come naturally – unintended fun. And that, in itself, was weird enough, especially given the way they'd comported themselves around each other for the last two years. "Look, thanks for helping me," he finally settled on a safe route for a quick escape. "I appreciate your concern." There was silence between them again, and it was extremely awkward. "I… I've got to get going. I've got class in less than twenty minutes, and I need to eat so I don't have a repeat attack."

"Oh, okay," Daphne muttered, clearly disappointed. Obviously, she'd wanted to explore their conversation further. "I guess I'll see you around."

"Yeah, see you," he acknowledged, opened the door and walked out. Just before the door shut behind him, he heard her final reply.

"You're welcome, Theo."

On swift moving, long legs he made his way through the dungeons back up towards the Entrance Hall, and then into the dining area. Nodding to Potter down a row, he took a seat by himself at Slytherin's table and ate hastily, ignoring Daphne when she entered (actually, he watched her out of his peripheral vision, but didn't look at her directly, so it didn't count) and walked past him to sit with Astoria. He'd made her miss most of her lunch as well, he dimly realized. For some reason, that made him feel about as guilty as flirting with her had.

X~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~X

The vulture requests started arriving by owl that afternoon. Draco intercepted each appeal for personal interviews. They came in from _The Daily Prophet_ (by Ms. Braithwaite herself, much to his amusement), _Witch Weekly_, _The Quibbler_, as well as foreign newspapers from France (_Sorcellerie Du Monde_), Germany (_Der Schwarze Sun_), Italy (_Illuminato_), and even one from Russia (_Старые сказы супруг_). He denied them all curtly and firmly with a "No Comment," reply. He expected them to arrive in droves tonight and tomorrow morning, camping out at the gates of the estate with their trusty photographers in hand, hoping to get a shot of what they rightly assumed (especially after posting the death notice) would be a memorial service held sometime in the next few days.

He sighed, and made his way out to the front of the house to strengthen the wards, walking the entire length of the fence line and probing each section for possible weaknesses. The Aurors, who had been sent to the house after the attack (when the wards had been destroyed by Bellatrix), had erected new barriers in the time between Lucius' hospital stay and his death. They had done an excellent job, Draco had to admit (in fact, they'd been the ones to let him and his mum back in when they'd floo'd from Dumbledore's office). Draco now layered a second set of wards – taught to him by his father and mother years back, so he'd know how to raise and lower them as appropriate – over the Auror's work for double protection. That included a powerfully strong set of _Protego Totalum, Cave Inimicum, Aboculus_ and _Muffliato_ charmed only to recognize him and bound with his blood (which he spilled in regular intervals as he moved about; a drop here and there from a series of small self-inflicted cuts across each of the fingers of his left hand). Owls and house elves were, of course, immune to the spells as well, so he could continue to conduct business as usual. It took more than four hours of grueling concentration which left him dragging himself back into the house for lunch when completed.

After having Hermione heal his hand, and catching a quick bite with both her and his mother (who were anxious to head back out to the greenhouse, where his botany-loving mum kept her most precious, rare plant specimens), he went in and shut off the floo network throughout the house, only allowing one access point – the Drawing Room. Even then, he bespelled that floo hearth so as to only allow those who carried the special invitation notices he and Hermione had sent out yesterday. No one else would be allowed on the property, period. Draco would protect what was his, no matter the cost.

When he finished, it was well after dinner time, and he'd missed sitting and eating with the two most important women in his life. He'd sat alone at the head of the empty dining hall table anyway and summoned Binky, requesting the house elf bring him dinner. When he finished consuming the meal (which was fabulously prepared, but wasted on him, as he was too tired to appreciate the textures and flavors) and a large cup of espresso, he made his way up to his bedroom, where he assumed Hermione would be waiting for him. He desperately needed to touch her.

X~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~X

That evening, after Narcissa had retired to her room and Hermione had finishing eating and took her bath, she waited for Draco to come back to his room. She lay down only for a moment in the big, soft bed, telling herself that she needed to rest her eyes… and promptly fell asleep.

Someone was stroking her hair back from her forehead. It was the lightest, gentlest touch, and it soothed her. "Draco?" she whispered, opening her lids. The room was lit with one small candle next to the bed, on the side table, and the flickering glow reflected off his platinum-blond hair, giving him an ethereal cast to his careworn, but still angelic face. She smiled. "Hi."

He stared down at her for a moment, not speaking, and then he swooped down and captured her lips in a sweet, tender pull. He nuzzled her cheek with his nose and she felt the fringe of his golden lashes tickle her cheek as he pressed small kisses on her jaw. "Hi," he returned, sliding up to capture her earlobe between his teeth. He nipped and suckled wetly down her throat to that point over her pulse, and then he bit a little harder. "Are you naked under these covers?" he asked, his voice smooth as warm, finely aged brandy.

"Yes," she gasped, pulling the duvet back to bare her breasts to him. His fingers came up to cup her right one, rolling her nipple at the same time.

"Good," he breathed, then stood to undress quickly. Cool air filled the space he had recently vacated, causing her skin to prickle and her nipples to tighten in response to the temperature change. When Draco slid in between the sheets to lay over her, pressing his hot, big body in between her legs to mount her, she shivered again at the sensation against her flesh. His wand pressed against her abdomen, and he spoke the charm to prevent pregnancy, and then he dropped his wand off the edge of the bed.

His mouth was everywhere on her, working its way down a little roughly. He seemed almost frantic to couple with her, but she instinctively understood why: tomorrow was his father's funeral. He needed a physical release, not just an emotional one, to help him cope. His fingers caressed down her body hurriedly, checking her to be sure she was ready for him, and rubbing her sensuously to work her up. His mouth slanted across hers hungrily the whole time. "I can't wait," he explained, gazing into her eyes apologetically. "I can't be as gentle as you need. Not tonight."

She licked her lips, and stroked him between his legs, finding him hard and heavy already. "It's okay," she gave permission, realizing she probably wouldn't reach climax with him this time, as her body wasn't quite sensate enough. "I know you love me." She gripped his shoulders tightly, and offered herself up to him to take as he wished.

He nodded and kissed her fiercely. "I do, Granger," he admitted, his face reflecting an odd combination of vulnerability and desire. "And I need you right now." He'd entered her as he spoke, sliding all the way in until he was buried deep inside. "I _really_ need you. I'm sorry." Pressing his face into her neck, he began moving immediately working up into raw, animal primacy – fast and almost brutal in intensity – rather quickly, his pace set for his pleasure alone this time. He groaned, moving swiftly over her, gasping in her ear with each powerful shove, his breath hot and wet against her skin. The bed creaked loudly in the high ceilinged room with each rocking movement.

In less than a minute, his grip on her hips tightened and he pulled her arse up as he moved his upper body off of hers, kneeling before her. He slammed into her recklessly and cried out loudly to the ceiling as he began to come in her. "Hermione!" he shouted with something akin to pain as his body was driven into her over and over hard. "_Gods, Hermione!_"

She felt his warmth shoot up her channel, watched his face as he gave himself away to her again, and felt profound sadness for the man she'd willed her heart to, wishing she could do more for him than just this act. "I love you, Draco," she told him. "I love you."

Drained, panting from the effort of orgasming so quickly, Draco sat back on his haunches, his body still buried inside her, his head dropped to his chest in exhaustion. He was quiet, except for his breathing, his eyes closed tightly.

Leaning up, Hermione reached out and took her lover in her arms and pulled him down to lay back into the soft mattress. She held onto him, willing all her strength and warmth into him. She felt his fatigue roll off of him in waves. His arms slowly wound about her, holding her to him. "Don't leave me, 'Mione," he murmured, already half asleep.

"I won't, Draco, I promise," she whispered, lightly touching his face to help relax him. "I'll hold you just like this, for as long as you want. I love you."

He kissed her forehead and snuggled down. "Want you… 'ever," he slurred, and nodded off finally, softly snoring soon after.

Hermione pressed a kiss to his chest right over his heart. "I want you 'ever too," she confessed, and closed her eyes to begin the first dream of the night.

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES:**

**- Dap Lotus / **_**Nelumbo Nex**_** – Dap is Thai for 'death,' Nelumbo is the genus of the lotus family, Nex is Latin for 'death/slaughter/violent death.' I made this plant up; it doesn't actually exist in nature.**

**- When trying to figure out how many students actually attend Hogwarts during Harry's time, I was confounded, so I went online to look it up. Here's a website with a pretty convincing argument: http:/www(dot)beyondhogwarts(dot)com**** / harry-potter / articles /**** - ****REMEMBER to replace "(dot)" with "." and remove the spaces in the URL above to see the website.**

_**- Sorcellerie Du Monde **_**= French for 'World Sorcery.' A made-up newspaper from France for this fanfic. Doesn't exist in JKR's world.**

_**- Der Schwarze Sun**_ = **German for 'The Black Sun.' A made-up newspaper from Germany for this fanfic. Doesn't exist in JKR's world.**

_**- Illuminato**_= **Italian for 'Illuminated.' A made-up newspaper from Italy for this fanfic. Doesn't exist in JKR's world.**

_**- Старые сказы супруг = **_**Russian Cyrillic for 'Smaryje skazy suprus' or 'Old Wive's Tales.' A made-up magazine from Russia for this fanfic. Doesn't exist in JKR's world.**

_**- Aboculus**_** = Latin for "blind." A charm to force a person's eyes to look over something as if it weren't there. Used for privacy. Does not exist in JKR's world; I made it up for my various fanfiction worlds.**


	13. Chapter 24

**CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: BLACK FRIDAY**

_**Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire, England**_

_**& Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland **_

_**Friday, November **__**28, 1997**_

Friday was an extreme emotional rollercoaster. Hermione lost herself to tears more than once.

Initially, she'd woken to find Draco still fast asleep. He lay on his back, one arm flung out to the side, the other cradling her. His long, platinum bangs fell into his eyes, and his mouth was partially opened as he breathed in deep slumber. Carefully disentangling herself so not to disturb him, she made her way into the bathroom for her morning toilet. She then started the shower, knowing she was going to need to get cleaned up for Lucius' funeral later this afternoon. She scrubbed down, shampooed her hair and conditioned it, then rinsed. As she was about to turn the spigot, Draco's hand shot over hers, preventing her from shutting off the water. He joined her under the warm spray, allowing her to wash him down as he cleansed his hair.

When the foamy soap was funneling down the drain, he grabbed her unexpectedly and held her to his chest tightly. At first, she thought he was attempting something amorous, but then she heard it – an agonized sob torn from his chest - and she knew what he was about. Holding him to her, they sank to the shower floor to their haunches, letting the water pour over them without care. Hermione held the man she loved while he once more lost himself in his grief, and she cried for him.

When he'd exhausted himself, Draco let her go, obviously embarrassed by his outburst. He pulled away from her after that, lost in his own world. She left him to dress himself to go check on his mother, whom she was sure would need just as much support, if not more right then. Draco had lost his father, but Narcissa had lost her soul mate.

As she'd presumed, Lady Malfoy was in a much worse state than her son. Summoning Binky, together they managed to get the mistress of the house bathed and dressed. Draco's mother, so approachable yesterday, was now cold and distant. Hermione knew this was her way of coping, however, and tried not to take the waspish comments personally, as Dumbledore had advised. She escorted Narcissa down to the dining room for breakfast when they were ready.

As they were concluding their mostly silent meal, Binky apparated to Hermione's side, informing them that a delivery had been made to the Drawing Room from a wizarding floral shop. When Draco demanded to know how the delivery got in without his permission, the wide-eyed house elf informed him that the florist's helper elves had apparated the flowers in. A look of understanding dawned on her lover's face, and he simply nodded his thanks to the small creature, who popped away again with a snap of fingers. Curious to see what had arrived, all three retired to the Drawing Room together.

When they opened the door, they discovered that the room was filled with flowers, literally. On every available surface – on the long table, on the cushion of every chair, in the corners, on the mantle, and on the couches even – there were baskets, vases and standing spray flower arrangements. Rose, lilies, tulips, carnations, daisies, and dahlias in every color and size imaginable filled the room with a fresh, light fragrance. In the middle of winter, Hermione wondered again how such a thing was possible. Only through magic, she assumed.

"How? Who?" Draco asked, dumbstruck, his face a mask of wonder.

Hermione approached one arrangement, noting a rather large, thick card attached and pulled the envelope away, opening it. Inside was a multi-paged sympathy gesture signed with the names of every Hogwarts student and staff member in alphabetical listing. A personal note from Harry indicated that everyone in the castle had chipped in to offer their sincerest regrets to the Malfoy family. Much too awed to speak, she passed the card to Draco, tears dripping down her cheeks. Peeking over his shoulder, Narcissa's eyes widened at first, and then she started bawling. Hugging his mother to him tightly, Hermione noted her lover's eyes watering and spilling over again as well. This gesture - by pretty much an entire generation of people - had been touching and generous, and secretly in her heart, Hermione made note to herself to thank _every single person_ in school when she returned back on Monday to classes.

Giving time for Draco and his mother to pass through their grief, she moved about the room, looking at other cards. There was one from Andromeda Tonks, Narcissa's sister, another from Nymphadora Tonks-Lupin and her husband Remus, a third from Kinglsey Shacklebolt and his staff from the Ministry, and one from the Weasleys. The Greengrasses, the Parkinsons, and _Signora_ Zabini sent flowers as well. It was an outpouring of love that Hermione, honestly, hadn't expected for Lucius Malfoy.

She looked over her shoulder at her boyfriend. No, she knew who it had _really_ been for.

X~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~X

Advanced Potions with Professor Slughorn was tedious that morning, as he was reviewing all of the potion ingredients they'd used over the last few months in preparation for the up-coming end of term tests. If Teddy had to think about rat spleen, dried seahorse, or toasted dragonfly thoraxes any longer, he feared his breakfast was going to come up. The healing Daphne had provided yesterday had worked well enough for him to skip taking potions the rest of the day, but this morning, he was back to feeling awful.

By the end of class, he'd decided he'd find his ex- and request she provide him with another dose of her magic, as the thought of downing another potion made him queasy.

He had a free period before lunch, and walked down to his Common Room to see if she was there on his way to dropping off his satchel. By luck, she was with Astoria, sitting before the fire on one of the couches. The siblings were studying together, as was their preference. "May I speak with you?" he requested politely, stepping to Daphne's side and looking down at her.

Surprised to see him, she glanced up, noted his serious gaze and nodded. "I'll be back later," she excused herself, leaving her books in her sister's care, and Teddy led her up the men's dorm stairs. She hesitated only slightly at the first step, but then followed him to his room, walking a few paces behind. He could feel her emerald stare against his back the whole way.

Making sure his roommates were out, he closed and locked the door behind them, then charmed it for privacy. Putting his pack down on his bed, he looked up to notice she was still standing near the exit, clear trepidation plastered to her pretty features. "What's this all about, Theo?" she asked, her hands behind her back, probably to keep herself from yanking on her hair. Since he'd pointed out her 'tell' to her, he'd noticed her making a special effort to stop using this coping method. She slipped often, but around him, he noticed she was extra conscientious.

"That healing spell you cast yesterday was amazing," he began, flattering with the truth. "It lasted all the rest of the day and last night, which is something my potions can't do. Plus there's no after taste." It was a bad joke, but he was _trying_. "I wondered… would it be possible for you to teach me this spell?"

She blinked, clearly taken aback by his request for help. "Sure… I mean, it's not a big deal. I don't mind."

He crossed over to her, stopping well out of range and within comfort levels for them both. "It's a big deal to me, Daphne. It would mean a lot not to have to drink three or more of those gods awful potions every day, and still worry about vomiting or passing out." He took his wand out, his hand trembling as his illness came on fast again. "Could we try it now? I'm kind of in a bad place at the moment."

"Oh!" Daphne gasped, noticing just then the pasty hue to his skin and the dampness on his brow. "Of course!" She lifted her wand and showed him the spell for healing that she had used, casting it on him at the same moment. Immediately, he felt a cooling of his body temperature, a calming of his stomach and nervous system, and his equilibrium was restored. They faux practiced casting it together a few times so he could get the hang of it.

"Thanks," he expressed his gratitude with a smile. "I feel almost normal again."

Daphne paused, and he could see THE QUESTION (the one he'd been dreading answering) forming in her eyes as she stared at him. "Will you tell me now what it is that's ravaging you like this? Is it… going to go away ever?"

Teddy smirked, acridly bitter. "Oh, yeah, it'll go away. In a few months, maybe a little longer."

His ex- was deadly silent and he knew she finally understood. He couldn't look her in the eye, feeling ashamed by his helplessness, even though none of this was his fault, truly.

"Theo…"

He didn't know how it happened, but suddenly she was in his arms, pressing her graceful, thin body to his, winding her arms about his neck. Her face was pressed against his jumper at that junction where his collar met his chest, and she was sobbing. "No… please tell me you're lying!" she wailed, clearly heartbroken by his news. "Theo, _just tell me you're lying!_"

Having her pressed up against him once more, hearing the sorrow in her voice, feeling the need to both comfort and be comforted… Something in Teddy snapped. Dropping his wand and cupping Daphne's tear-streaked cheeks, he lowered his head and slanted his lips over hers without hesitation, silencing her in an instant. It was a chaste kiss, and yet, under the soft inducement were unspoken apologies and deep, trembling regrets. Lasting only seconds, he pulled away and his lids fluttered open to see Daphne's had never closed; they were wide with shock.

What had he just done?

…

Shit, who cared? It had felt _so good_ and he wanted more.

Ignoring repercussions, forgetting their past, he pulled her to him, wrapped his arms about her tightly, and kissed Daphne fiercely, letting two years of pent-up emotions flow through his mouth and into her.

This… this was so familiar, like coming home.

Thrusting his tongue in between her rosy, glossed lips, he coaxed her to respond. She finally did with a sigh of surrender, pushing her hands through his hair, pulling it out of its binding, gripping it strongly between her fingers as her mouth cast over his with intense need and desire. They fumbled backwards against the wall, the moment heating up, that familiar falling sensation taking hold in Teddy's gut.

By all that was Slytherin, he'd missed this. He'd missed _her_.

They kissed long and hard, sparring with each other, taking and giving, making up for lost time. It was _fucking awesome_. Teddy's todger was so hard he thought he might lose it right there.

The handle on the bedroom door turned noisily. The unknown intruder discovered the lock engaged, and proceeded to knock instead. The moment was thwarted, and Teddy pulled away from Daphne guiltily. They stared at each other, surprised, neither one quite knowing what to say about what they'd just been doing… what they both obviously wanted to _continue_ doing.

The knock transformed into a pounding. "Come on, mate," Pucey's muffled whined resounded from the other side of the wood. "Open the friggin' door."

Removing his hands from his ex- quickly, Teddy smoothed down his rumpled clothes, bent and picked up his wand and waved it at the lock, setting it free. Adrian walked in as soon as he turned the knob, annoyance across his features. "What was the damned hold up? I was… _Whoa._" He stopped just this side of the doorway, noticing Daphne for the first time, seeming shocked that a girl was standing in their room. Blood suffused Pucey's cheeks and he looked down, chagrined. "Sorry," he muttered, then moved past them quickly to his bunk, where he tossed his satchel down. "Um… didn't meant to interrupt. Just getting some books for afternoon classes." He rummaged through his trunk and traded tomes off. "Be out of here in a jiff."

Finishing his business in less than a minute, Adrian made his way back out the door, shutting it quietly behind him with a "see ya." An awkward silence hovered in the room with his departure.

"He talks funny," Daphne finally said, more for something to fill the space, clearly, than to actually discuss Adrian Pucey's speech patterns.

"He's Muggle-born," Teddy remarked as if that explained everything. To a Pureblood like Daphne, it probably did. Having used up that conversation's opportunity "in a jiff," he turned to the beautiful blonde witch he'd once given his heart to and threw her an apologetic expression. "Look, I'm sorry… for that."

Daphne was watching him carefully now, considering what he'd just said. He could see the Slytherin in her contemplating a course of action. With a weary sigh, she bent to pick up her wand from the floor where it had tumbled from her hand when they'd gone against the wall. "I'm not," she finally told him, straightening up. "In fact…" She stepped into his private space, and he took a step back, unsure. The process repeated until he was flush with one of his bed posts. "I'd like to do it again." Teddy was only a few centimeters taller than she, so it didn't take much stretching on Daphne's part to maneuver her mouth back over his for another kiss.

_Gods almighty_, her lips were so soft! Had they been this pliant before? He suddenly couldn't remember. Shit, he couldn't practically breathe!

She pulled away before he could respond properly, causing him to growl in frustration. Angry now, he bit. "Don't tease," he warned her, the animal side of him wanting nothing more than to grab her, throw her down on his bed and shag her hard. He had to put his hands behind his back and bite the inside of his jaw to keep from acting on the impulse.

"I'm not teasing, Theo," she breathed against his face. "Or pretending. Not with you. But I understand. Neither one of us expected that. I... understand." With that, she turned and left his room quietly. It took Teddy five more minutes to calm his racing heart before he could gather his wits.

Seriously, what _had _he just fucking done?

Opened Pandora's Box, that's what.

X~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~X

Both partners in Wendell & Phells floo'd into the Manor that afternoon at one o'clock, per invitation, and met with them in the dining room. Draco crossed over to them, halting them just inside the door to the room, and the three men spent a few minutes talking quietly amongst themselves, while Hermione took after lunch tea with Narcissa, giving the woman the comfort of her presence, and not unnecessarily filling the air with irritating chatter. Yesterday may have been a time for occupation, but today was all about restraint.

She knew what the men were discussing by the occasional word that echoed across the distance between them. There were negotiations on the best way to bring the casket in, the issue of clearing the walk for the solemn processional march to the crypt, and last minute details of the actual ceremony Draco had so painstakingly dictated in their owls back and forth earlier in the week. These men from the funeral home, she noted, were professionals, in that they were both reverent and prepared, and macabre though it was to think it, Hermione would remember to keep their name in mind should there ever be a future need.

When all was set, Draco crossed over to them. Hermione saw what he held in his hands, as she was facing him. His mother did not, as her back was to him. She traded a look with her lover, and then put her tea cup down in preparation for anything.

Narcissa was eerily still for a moment, as if she had eyes in the back of her head and knew what was coming. She put her cup down neatly in its saucer and placed her hands on her thighs, palms down. She appeared to be steeling herself. "You can… give them to me now," she spoke in as highly dignified a manner as possible, but Hermione could see her slightly trembling shoulders and the tightening around the woman's mouth. Were those frowning sorrow lines that were beginning to deeply crease her porcelain skin around her lips?

Draco stepped forward and carefully brought his father's cane and wedding band into view. Narcissa's eyes tracked their slow, hesitant movement towards her, and pain etched along her outer eyelids, leaving their mark upon her beautiful features as well. With great sensitivity and precise treatment, Draco placed his father's things on the table before his mother, scooting her tea set to the side. He stepped back and waited.

"Could you both excuse me?" his mother requested in a voice so soft it was almost a whisper. All of the strength was once more sucked out of her, and it was only with the barest grip on her pride, Hermione knew, that the woman was holding onto her composure.

"Of course," Draco held his hand out to Hermione and she stood, taking it. "Call for Binky should you need us. We'll be… around the house."

His mother didn't reply and they quickly, but quietly made their exit. As the door closed behind them, Hermione heard the sad snuffling of Lady Malfoy's tears begin. Thankfully, they were shut off by the privacy spell that every room in the house seemed to affect when it was closed off. Tears prickled the back of Hermione's eyes, but she had no time for sadness, as Draco grabbed her hand and tugged her after him hard. He led her with apparently no specific destination in mind, and before she knew it, they were standing in the Malfoy library, a place she'd longed to visit to appease her curiosity, but thought inappropriate given the circumstances.

He drew her over to the window that looked out over the expanse of the back of the property and held her to his chest. "Someday," he whispered, and she could hear the tears in his voice. "I want all this to be yours." He looked at her, touching her cheek gently. "Would you like that, too?"

Hermione froze. Had he just asked her to marry him, in a roundabout way? Sure, he'd said twice now that he wanted her forever, but that was usually during or after they'd had sex. It was, what Ginny would say, most likely 'pillow talk' or that odd male possessiveness that men sometimes exhibited. And Draco was grieving, so he was probably speaking from that wellspring now. Would he regret asking this of her later? Would she regret replying to him as her heart wanted?

"Yes, I'd like that," she spoke honestly, praying that later he wouldn't take this moment back. She wasn't sure if he had meant it, but she knew that she did – she wanted Draco forever. "As long as you're here with me."

His beautiful, winter eyes stared into her soul, and she felt as naked and raw before him there, in that room, fully clothed in the light of day, as she had in her own room back at Hogwarts that night they'd first made love. He moved his hands behind her back, and when he pulled them around, he took her right hand in his. Before she could react, he slipped his Slytherin serpent ring onto her ring finger. "My promise to you," he offered, using his wand and shrinking it down to fit. "I'm yours, Hermione." He kissed each fingertip sweetly and then looked back at her with a sad smile. "When you're ready, give this back to me so I can replace it with something more permanent and proper - on the other hand."

It took her several long seconds to remember to breathe. Draco Malfoy had just vocally promised himself to her! In the Wizarding world, that was serious business. She stared down at the sinuous, silver metal carved in the shape of a snake, with the green emeralds for eyes that winked at her in the light, and was moved to tears again. Her sobs shook her shoulders this time, and she wrapped her arms about his neck, burying her head in the crook. "I love you," she tearfully proclaimed, feeling oddly elated during a time that should be about bereavement.

Draco chuckled sadly, nuzzling his nose in her curly hair. "Geez, Granger, I've finally taken you to the library. You're supposed to be orgasmic with rapture."

She sniffled, feeling very emotionally vulnerable right then. "Maybe later, okay?"

Capturing her lips in a sweet kiss, Draco pressed his forehead to hers. "Okay."

X~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~X

Guests started flooing in about an hour later. Draco and Hermione greeted them in the Drawing Room, where all floos were defaulted, and then took them into the spacious elegance of the White Ballroom, where Lady Malfoy was in attendance, and where tea was being served by Binky. All of the flower arrangements that had crowded the Drawing Room had been moved to the White Ballroom earlier and set up in a nice, prominent display to show appreciation for them.

Very soon, the forty-foot tall ceilinged room with the ornate French-style guild and elaborate wall moldings was packed with a numbers of finely dressed mourners and sympathy wishers. The 19th century Turkish, hand-woven rug was practically hidden beneath the throng of bodies.

The Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, was one of the first to arrive, followed closely after by Amelia Bones the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Ludo Bagman, the Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports, Wilkie Twycross, the Head of the Department of Magical Transportation, Gawain Robards, the Head of the Auror Office, and Arthur Weasley, the Head of the Office for the Detection and Confiscation of Counterfeit Defensive Spells and Protective Objects. Of course, all spouses were in attendance as well.

Additionally, Bill, Percy, Charlie and George Weasley came to show their support to Hermione and Draco. And, Albus Dumbledore, Minerva McGonagall and Severus Snape appeared from Hogwarts within half an hour of the Weasley men. To Draco's surprise, Harry Potter had come as well (of course, Hermione had thrown her arms about her best friend and cried in happiness to see him, which only brought with it a mild bite of jealousy, which Draco tamped down quickly, reminding himself who's promise ring his lover was wearing). He and Potter shook hands and a moment of questioning passed from the dark haired wizard. "Later," Draco said under his breath, not wanting Hermione to hear what he had to say. Potter nodded perceptively and moved off to speak with Snape.

Draco's surviving aunt, Andromeda, and her husband, Ted, came next, and they were a great comfort to his mother (who had resumed a relationship with her sister after the Dark Lord had been vanquished). His cousin, Nymphadora and her husband, Remus, and their baby, Teddy, were right behind. Draco and Remus had struck up a good rapport during the war. It had been this man, in fact, who had seconded Dumbledore's nomination for Draco's membership into the Order of the Phoenix, and that trust Draco had never forgotten. They met now to a warm clasp of hands.

A dozen of his father's business contacts and various investment partners dribbled in over the next hour, including Lord Greengrass and Lord Parkinson, and their wives, as well as a small delegation of Goblins from Gringotts, where his father's vast sum of wealth (now under his mother's and his control) had been kept all their lives (clearly, the Goblins were here only to maintain a good business relationship). Blaise's father, Angelo, who had joined in the final battle against Voldemort to protect his son, even showed up. The man had been Lucius' Housemate at school, and wanted to express his sincerest condolences to the family.

The biggest shock of the afternoon had been the appearance of Draco's reclusive, 78 year old maternal grandmother, Druella Rosier-Black, who came on the arm of the squib, Marius Black. The two had married in secret earlier in the year after the announcement of Voldemort's death (his grandmother had been a dowager since her first husband's passing in 1979, and Marius had been shunned by the rest of the Black family for his non-magical status, so this came as a huge surprise to Draco, needless to say). He'd further thought his mother would be as flatfooted as he with the appearance and the news, but it turned out that she'd known for months and was happy with the match for her lonely, elderly mother. Marius seemed a rather amicable and well-mannered man, and he doted on his new wife, that much was obvious. "Please call me Marius," the gentleman had requested, and Draco had obliged with respect.

When at last the designated time came, Mr. Wendell appeared to let them know that the walk had been cleared and a warmed bubble charm had been cast from the house all the way to the crypt for the guests. In a soothing voice, he indicated that Draco should take "the grieving widow" by the arm and lead them all for the funeral procession. Reluctantly letting Hermione go onto Potter's arm, Draco helped his mother to her feet and they took the long walk through the house together.

"Your father would be proud of you," his mother spoke to him in a low murmur as they stepped through the hallways, the sounds of hushed steps from dozens of feet behind them following. "You are a true Malfoy, my son."

It took him two tries and numerous swallows to speak. "Father would be proud of you as well, mother."

His mum sniffed, but kept her tears at bay with that discipline and strength he'd always known her to have. "I see your ring on her finger. I am greatly pleased for you both. She is an excellent woman."

A stab of pride lit his heart, lifting Draco momentarily out of the doldrums, making the march (which had now reached the back of the house and was being led out of the large, solid oak doors onto the back vista patio and down the stairs to the gravel rock path through the gardens) bearable. "Thank you. Your approval means the world to me."

With a dab of her handkerchief at the corner of an eye (the only "weak" moment his mother had shown all afternoon since the guests had started arriving), she nodded. "We shall discuss your future tomorrow."

Draco perfectly understood. His mother was telling him that she would need something to occupy her mind so she wouldn't fall into the deepest pits of depression, and planning a future engagement party would help, even if it seemed inappropriate timing for those outside the situation. She would do her mourning in private from now on. It was the Malfoy way.

They continued on in silence for another ten minutes until they reached the family crypt on the far end of the property. A miniature, Grecian-styled marble temple was built into a large hillock. It had a double-door entrance, which was currently opened up to show a large, ten foot ceilinged room with a single bier in the middle. On the bier was his father's casket. The long, black, wooden death bed was sealed shut, per his requirements (he did not want anyone to see his father's body's decay, as the spell's effects had continued for another two hours after death, he'd been told by the hospital), thus preserving his father's dignity, and his and his mother's sanities. He felt his heart clench at the sight, hit once more with the inarguable reality that his father was really dead. In that coffin lay Lucius Malfoy.

Next to him, he felt his mother come to the same realization as they both gazed at the horrid reminder. A small sob escaped her, and Draco squeezed his mother's hand under his arm to remind her of who she was, and that crying was not something they engaged in public. He knew his mother would have wanted him to do this, even though it killed something inside him to know he couldn't even be normal for a minute and grieve over his own father's coffin.

He hardly heard the words spoken by Mr. Phells, but he assumed it was the eulogy he had written and owl'd to him earlier this week. All he could see was the black rectangular box before him, his mind shutting down all emotions to keep him safe.

He wished Hermione was next to him. He wanted to touch her. He _needed_ to.

The ceremony was over before he knew it, and he and his mother were led into the "viewing room" for a few private moments to say what they wished over the bier. Whatever words his mother had wanted to express were said in the quiet of her mind, and not spoken aloud. Draco had no thoughts of his own, except one: "_Adieu, mon père_."

After a few minutes, they were escorted out by Mr. Wendell and halted to the side, while Mr. Phells directed the gathered mourners into the traditional "round", leading them into the crypt on the right, allowing them a chance to lay hands or drop flowers on the casket if they wished and offer a final goodbye, then led them back out on the left. The line then passed by Draco and his mother, and more formal sympathies were offered, before the guests made their way solemnly back into the house, where they could partake of drinks and food during the reception phase.

Draco remembered shaking a multitude of hands, murmuring thanks for coming and for kind words. He remembered holding his mother up by tightening his grip on her hand under his arm and stepping closer. He remembered seeing the single flowers every person – even the goblins - placed on the coffin and wondered where they had gotten them from. But strangely, he couldn't remember a single thing said during the whole ceremony. It was as if the words were buzzing, droning things that made no sense. In the end, only Dumbledore, Snape, McGonagall, Potter and his Hermione had hung back, waiting for him and his mother. Mr. Wendell explained that the casket would remain in place for three days per wizarding tradition, and on Monday afternoon, he and Mr. Phells would return to see it brought down into the bowels of the crypt into its proper alcove for permanent ensconcement. He then waved his wand and shut the double-doors, replacing the magical charms on it for locking. Then, he waited to walk behind the others, per tradition (the funeral director was always the last man out, much like his Master, Death).

Draco and his mother made the long trek back to the house then. He supported his mother by assuring his steps mirrored hers in stride and speed. Behind him, he could feel the love of his teachers, his new friend and his lover, and their strength supported _him_.

X~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~X

The reception was subdued, and slowly people filtered out with final goodbyes and offers to help, should the need arise. Draco courteously accepted every one with a handshake and, in some cases, a hug. Then, the exiting guests were escorted to the floo by Mr. Phells and seen out, per Draco's earlier instructions.

Dumbledore, Snape, and Potter stayed behind when the last of the guests and the funeral directors both made their exit. Draco asked his three co-conspirators to wait for him in his father's study, detailing the way from the White Ballroom to Dumbledore so they could find it themselves, while he and Hermione took his mother up to her bedroom. She was clearly exhausted, having been forced to hold her chin up under the day's emotional battering. Requesting Binky make sure his mother ate and was prepared for bed, he then kissing her on the cheek and promised to discuss things with her tomorrow. They took their leave of Narcissa as she sat, disconsolately numb on her couch, and then went towards his own bedroom.

"I'm going downstairs to say goodbye to Potter and the Headmaster. I'll be up in a while," he explained, herding her towards the tub. "Why don't you take a bath and I'll be back by the time you're finished." Hermione gave him a strange, flat look, but capitulated when he snogged her senseless and promised in a low, purposefully sultry voice to come back later and finish the kiss. He was too thoroughly exhausted to shag tonight, and hoped she'd forgive him the lie, but it was the best excuse he could make at that moment. He left her as she entered the bathroom.

Making his way back down to the study, he met with his professors and Potter behind a closed door. "Firewhiskey?" he offered as soon as he arrived in the study entrance, and everyone – even Snape – accepted the gesture. He poured four glasses and handed off three, downing the contents of his own in one pull. He'd learned how to hold his liquor after accepting the Dark Mark last year. "I think you know what I'm going to say," he began, his tone hardening, as he compartmentalized his feelings and put his 'business face' on. "I want that bitch dead. I'm going after her. Will you help?"

There was silence. Harry stepped over to him and put his glass down on the large desk that reigned supreme in the room. "I'm in."

Draco looked up at him and they locked gazes – silver on green. "You sure? Could take years."

His one-time rival nodded firmly. "I owe her for Hagrid."

"I expect you already know my feelings on this matter, Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore frowned, clearly displeased. "I cannot prevent you from doing this, legally, as you are both adults, but please allow me the time to offer you a different alternative."

"The Headmaster is right, Draco," Snape spoke reasonably. "Bellatrix is perhaps even cleverer than the Dark Lord was. She is an unpredictable and dangerous foe. There are other ways to bring her to heel if we strategically plan, instead of jumping into the fire so quickly."

Draco looked between the two professors, his ire turning to cold lead in his stomach. "And what do you suggest? Wait around until she decides to come back and finish the job on my mother? Or shall I send her off into hiding again, away from her home while she's in the middle of grieving the only man she ever loved?" He shook his head firmly. "No, she's suffered enough."

"I will add my own wards over the fine job you have already done here, Draco," Dumbledore offered. "I guarantee no Death Eater will be able to enter your home again. Your mother will be safe. There is no reason to act so rash."

Draco almost lost it. "Rash? She knows the Unmentionables! And yesterday, I received this." He tossed a rumpled wad of paper from his pocket onto the desk. He'd received the letter by owl in the early afternoon when Hermione was not around; it was the primary reason he'd gone out to recheck the wards around his home. Harry picked the note up and smoothed it out, reading. When he was finished, his eyes widened and his face became a mask of fury. "She's going after the families. She knows you don't have anyone left, Potter, so she's promised that the Weasleys and Grangers are next. Then the teachers at Hogwarts. She's going to kill everyone systematically to make you and I suffer for killing her beloved bedmate. Then she'll come for us. She's fucking insane."

Without a word, Harry handed the note off to Dumbledore. Snape read it over his shoulder. Their faces were grim. "May I keep this?" the Headmaster requested, and Draco nodded and waved it away with disgust. Folding the note up, it disappeared into Dumbledore's robes. "We will alert the other families and the Aurors, and prepare ourselves. I will summon the Order members to the castle for a meeting tomorrow. This concerns all of us."

"And what of Hermione's family?" Draco asked coldly. "They're Muggles. We should place them in hiding again immediately."

"I've already seen to it."

All four men whirled to find Hermione in the doorway, her face set and determined.

"Earlier this week, while you were busy with legal business, I sent my parents a note by using one of the owls from your Aviary," she explained. "They've already left for Australia again, and resumed their former aliases. I sent Binky to make sure they were safe and comfortable yesterday, when your mother and I took a break from touring the house. It only took her a few minutes, since house elves can pop in and out of the wards easily. My parents are lying low right now, waiting for instructions."

Draco's jaw dropped open, literally.

Hermione gave him an amused smile. "Did you really think I hadn't thought of this? Or that I'd not know you'd try to go after Bellatrix yourself? Why do you think I ran to find you at the hospital?" While his defenses were still reeling, she stepped into the room fully and came to his side. "Whatever you think you're going to do, Draco, we'll plan it out together. If you think for a second I'm letting you go off half-cocked or alone, you obviously don't know me." She touched his chin and literally closed his gaping mouth.

"You're supposed to be taking a bath," he growled, not knowing what else to say. His brain was totally on overload at the moment. The day had been a long, difficult one, and now this…

Grinning impishly, she scooting herself up onto the desk next to him, letting her legs hang down, and leaned back on her hands. "I may be your intended now, Malfoy, but I still don't plan on letting you boss me around." She turned to the others (who seemed just as astounded as Draco by Hermione's calculated daring - which reflected a perfect combination of Gryffindor and Slytherin antics, he wryly noted). "So… what do we know?"

Dumbledore provided information that had come from the Ministry about the breakout – all of the Death Eaters, minus Gregory Goyle (who had chosen to stay in his cell, for fear of getting caught and making his five-year sentence worse) had made their escape. The Aurors (who were out in force, and who were working with Aurors from the Asian, American, and African Ministries) had already recaptured Avery Sr., Crabbe Sr., Jugson, Travers, Goyle Sr., Yaxley, Mulciber, Gibbon, Rookwood, Selwyn, and Rosier Sr. That left Bellatrix, Rodolphus Lestrange, Avery Jr., Dolohov, Rowle, the Carrow siblings, and Macnair.

"Sir," Hermione addressed the Headmaster, fingering the two chains around her neck. She pulled on one of them now and yanked the Time-Turner out of her shirt. "I knew to come down here earlier because it buzzed me. But there's no heat. I'm confused as to whether it's telling me to use it or not, and if so, I don't know what I'm supposed to fix."

Snape and Harry both drew in breaths of recognition at the device in her hands. Draco was weary of the thing, honestly. Messing with time was one of the big no-nos in the wizarding universe, which why was these devices were all collected (minus this one, apparently) and locked away in the Department of Mysteries (where, he'd heard, they'd all been destroyed during Potter's little battle there against his father and the other Death Eaters last year).

Dumbledore crossed to her and took the magical pendant between his fingers, his brow drawn down in confusion. This was the first time Draco had ever seen the man not look completely assured about something magical. "Odd," was all the Headmaster said for long moments, carefully maneuvering the item around. "May I test something, Miss Granger?" he asked and she automatically nodded, trusting their professor without question.

Before Draco could open his mouth to issue a warning, Dumbledore activated the Time-Turner with a twist and a spin. To his immense relief, nothing happened. At least not immediately.

Within half a minute, Hermione's breathing picked up and she suddenly grabbed her head. In her increased state of anxiety, she began unconsciously projecting her thoughts throughout the room, and what Draco saw was quite disturbing: images of the final battle at Riddle Manor, blood and bodies everywhere lying inert, most unconscious, some dead. She was kneeling over Dobby the house elf, his small shoulder crushed, two large puncture wounds leaving the grey-brown flesh gaping open and pouring blood and something else – some venom that was foaming and white. He was clearly dead. "STOP IT!" she screamed and shut her eyes. She shook her head, and another vision flashed: Dumbledore's familiar – the Phoenix, Fawkes - screaming a war cry, diving towards Voldemort's head, distracting him long enough for Harry to stab upwards with Gryffindor's sword in hand, his aim true. Riddle struck with some unknown spell at that exact moment, and the fiery bird fell next to Dobby, tears flowing from the phoenix's dark, mystical eyes as they closed for the last time, his sacrifice a noble one.

Draco shook Dumbledore off angrily and grabbed Hermione to him as she sobbed uncontrollably. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" she mumbled, anguished.

Nuzzling his cheek next to hers, he shushed her softly. "I'm here, baby. It was just a memory. It's all right." It took five minutes, some tender kisses on her temple and forehead, and gentle rubbing on her back to calm her down. No one else in the room spoke during that time, seemingly to hold their breaths in dreadful anticipation of Draco's fury to be unleashed.

"I'm okay now," Hermione sniffled and wiped at her eyes.

"Miss Granger, I hate to ask," Dumbledore softly inquired, stepping in close, despite Draco's warning growl. "But can you describe what the Time-Turner just did to you?"

Beneath his hands, his lover's body shuddered, but her back stiffened with resolve. "It… I felt like I was there again. At the final battle, reliving the moment. I could… e-even s-s-smell the blood." She shivered fiercely, and Draco wrapped his arms tighter about her, offering comfort. "But… I knew I wasn't really there because I could vaguely see all of you still." She struggled with an idea, biting her lip. "It was like I was both there and here at the same time."

Dumbledore looked over at Snape with a raised eyebrow. "I'm no expert on the mathematics of space-time theory – that is more Madam Vector's field - but it sounds like some sort of… displacement in time," Severus offered hesitantly, his eyes narrowed in consideration.

The Headmaster nodded in agreement. "Yes, yes, most assuredly." Piercing blue eyes stared hard at the device lying inert across Hermione's breast. "It would seem… the device is malfunctioning. I think it best to give it to me, Miss Granger. It may be dangerous."

She nodded and Draco stepped back to give her room to maneuver. She slipped the necklace over her head and handed it over to the Professor. She seemed almost reluctant to let the thing go, however, a curious expression of confusion on her face. "I…" she began, but stopped herself, shook her head and released the necklace into Dumbledore's hand.

Harry was at her side in an instant. "You okay, 'Mione?" he asked, carefully placing a hand on her shoulder.

She nodded, leaning her cheek up against Draco's chest. "I'll be fine, Harry."

"I think it prudent to alert the Order members _immediately_ of Miss Lestrange's note," Dumbledore hurried to the door, holding the Time-Turner carefully between his aged hands. "We will discuss further plans for dealing with her tomorrow." At the oaken panel, he stopped and turned back with a serious frown. "Until then, I ask that you please do not act. I realize your thirst for revenge is powerful, Mr. Malfoy, but there are others things to consider now." He looked down at the Time-Turner again and his white brow creased in concern. "I think it best we hold off on making any sort of movement until we have had time to better formulate our plans." He turned to Harry and Snape. "We should go now and allow the family their rest."

Severus and Harry moved to join Dumbledore, who gave a questioning glance to Hermione. She merely shook her head and pressed in closer to Draco, and the Headmaster nodded, his all-knowing gaze making Draco actually blush.

"I'll contact you tomorrow evening, Mr. Malfoy. Please convey again my deepest condolences to your mother," the old, tired wizard nodded and then left.

"See you tomorrow, 'Mione, Malfoy," Harry bid them goodnight and followed his mentor.

Snape paused for a moment at the door, his eyes drawn to Hermione's right hand. The slightest smirk turned up one corner of his lips, and then he looked at Draco with approval. "Goodnight, godson. Miss Granger." He left in a flutter of black robes.

He and Hermione made sure the floo was secured in the Drawing Room before heading up to Draco's bedroom, hand in hand, warily dragging each other to the bed. In a flurry of removed clothes, with no thought to bathing or brushing teeth – they were both _that_ tired – they huddled under the covers together in his large bed, holding on tightly.

"Thank you for today," he murmured to her, with a deep, bone weary sigh. "I'm glad you were here. And that you came to the meeting tonight."

Against his chest, Hermione yawned. "Thank you for not shutting me out."

With a weak chuckle, Draco kissed her curly head. "Not like I could have done a damned thing to stop you, tricky witch."

She was already asleep, however, and missed his playful come back. Shutting his eyes, Draco drifted off to sleep to the sweet, calming scent of honey, cinnamon and amber – Hermione's scent – pervading his overly exhausted senses. This horrible day was finally over.

_**

* * *

****AUTHOR'S NOTES:**_

_**- Signora**_** = Italian for "Madam/M'am/Mrs."**

**- For the record, Marius Black was Druella Rosier-Black's former husband's father's brother. She was not related to him except by marriage originally, but her first husband (Cygnus Black) died in 1979, leaving her widowed and no longer technically part of the Black family except in name. I invented Marius' marriage to Druella for this fic, though, as JKR doesn't ever mention either of them in her books except as part of the Black family lineage tree. **

**- To see a picture of the White Ballroom at Malfoy Manor, go here: http:/s905(dot)photobucket(dot)com / albums / ac260 / RZZMG / Us%20After%20This / (Remember to replace "(dot)" with "." and remove all spaces from that URL for it to work).**

**- Wow… did you know that Harry Potter is related to many of the characters in the series? Check this out - Harry's grandmother was Dorea Black-Potter, who married Charlus Potter. In terms of connections from that union, Harry is related to:**

**The Blacks (specifically, Sirius II and Regulus II Black, are Harry Potter's third cousins; Sirius II is also Harry Potter's godfather, and was his father, James' best mate)**

**The Lestranges (Bellatrix Black-Lestrange was Harry Potter's second cousin)**

**The Malfoys (Narcissa Black-Malfoy is Harry Potter's second cousin. Her son, Draco Malfoy, is Harry Potter's third cousin. His son, Scorpius Malfoy, is Harry Potter's fourth cousin)**

**The Tonks' (Andromeda Black-Tonks is Harry Potter's second cousin. Her daughter, Nymphadora Tonks-Lupin, is Harry Potter's third cousin. Her son, Teddy Lupin, is Harry Potter's fourth cousin)**

**The Weasleys (Arthur Weasley is Harry Potter's second cousin. His seven children – Bill, Charlie, Percy, George, Fred, Ron, Ginerva – are all Harry Potter's third cousins. Bill Weasley's children – Victorie, Dominique, Louis & Percy Weasley's children – Molly II, Lucy & George Weasley's children – Fred Jr., Roxanne & Ronald Weasley's children – Rose, Hugo – are all Harry Potter's fourth cousins. Harry married Ginerva "Ginny" Weasley, his third cousin)**

**The Prewetts (Dorea Black, Harry's grandmother, was second cousins with Lucretia Black, who married Ignatius Prewett. Aside: Ignatius Prewett is Molly Prewett-Weasley's uncle)**

**The Flints (Dorea Black, Harry's grandmother, was the granddaughter of Nigellus Black & Ursula Flint)**

**The Bulstrodes (Dorea Black, Harry's grandmother, was the daughter of Cygnus Black I & Violetta Bulstrode)**

**The Crabbes (Dorea Black, Harry's grandmother, was sister to Pollux Black, who married Irma Crabbe)**

**The Rosiers (Dorea Black, Harry's grandmother, was the aunt of Cygnus Black II, and he married Druella Rosier)**

**The Crouches (Dorea Black, Harry's grandmother, was first cousins with Charis Black-Crouch who married Caspar Crouch)**

**The Macmillans (Dorea Black, Harry's grandmother, was first cousins with Arcturus Black II, who married Melania Macmillan-Black)**

**The Longbottoms (Dorea Black, Harry's grandmother, was first cousins with Callidora Black-Longbottom, who married Harfang Longbottom)**

**The Yaxleys (Dorea Black, Harry's grandmother, was the niece of Arcturus Black I, who married Lysandra Yaxley-Black)**

**The Greengrasses (Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter's third cousin, married Astoria Greengrass-Malfoy, making her Harry's third cousin-in-law.)**

**The Lupins (Nymphadora Tonks-Lupin, Harry Potter's third cousin, married Remus Lupin, making him Harry's third cousin-in-law)**

**The Delacoeurs (Bill Weasley, Harry Potter's third cousin, married Fleur Delacoeur-Weasley, making her Harry's third cousin-in-law.)**

**The Johnsons (George Weasley, Harry Potter's third cousin, married Angelina Johnson-Weasley, making her Harry's third cousin-in-law.)**

**Whatever family Percy's wife Audrey is from (Percy Weasley, Harry Potter's third cousin, married a woman named Audrey Weasley, whose original family lineage is not know. She is Harry's third cousin-in-law.)**

**The Grangers (Ronald Weasley, Harry Potter's third cousin, married Hermione Granger-Weasley, making her Harry's third cousin-in-law.)**

**Also, that means that Draco is related to most of those people as well. That messes with your head. You can see the known lineage charts at the Harry Potter Wikipedia site. Interesting!**


	14. Chapter 25

**AUTHOR'S NOTES: **I struggled with this chapter, as there was an important character development issue to address here (i.e. dealing with religion), but I worried how some of the fans of this series might react to such a touchy subject. I felt it _**was**_ appropriate to delve into such a controversial topic, however, since it enhances Hermione & Draco's understanding of the universe (individually and together). Besides, JKR made it clear that many of the wizards in the HP Universe are most likely religious, especially Muggle-borns (since their exposure to regular Muggle society - typical society in today's Britain - was greater than Purebloods, and religion is a big part of we Brits' lives and laws). Tackling such difficult subjects (i.e. dealing with unwanted pregnancies, religious debates, politics and prejudice, to marry or not to marry, sexual/gender identity struggles, etc.) keeps things real and grounded in any story.

So, consider yourself forewarned: I've included a religious discussion in this chapter.

* * *

**CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE: PUZZLE PIECES **

_**The Daily Prophet Headquarters, Daigon Alley, London, England**_

_**& Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire, England**_

_**& Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland **_

_**Saturday, November 29, 1997**_

X~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~X

Barnabas Cuffe was _seriously_ angry. Braithwaite hadn't reported in yet, and no one had seen her in almost twenty-four hours. That meant she'd missed her deadline for today's submission - what was supposed to be an exclusive front page splash (continued on page six) on Lucius Malfoy's funeral. Instead, he'd had to take a piece she'd written up on Thursday, continuing the feature on the escaped Death Eaters, and use it as a place marker in this morning's edition.

"She'd better show within the next fucking hour," he snarled, as he prowled about the office, passing the desks of other reporters. "I want something for Sunday's morning post on that funeral."

Tall, lean, thin-haired Andy Smudgley stood up and adjusted his glasses over the bridge of his pinched nose. "I could do a quick write-up, in case she doesn't get here in time, boss. My stories for tonight and tomorrow's papers are on your desk already, and I've got nothing on my plate currently."

Barnabas growled internally. Smudgley was a good reporter, but he was a little of the dry sort. Sensationalism just wasn't his angle; he reported the facts as they existed, whereas reporters like Braithwaite and Skeeter walked the edge of scandal in their writings by utilizing clever innuendo that made the readers question what they knew, and the motivations of those involved in the story (which equated to upping paper sales). Socially destroying lives took a special type of talent that Smudgley simply didn't possess.

Still, in a pinch, the man was a quick writer with an accurate eye. If anyone could get all of the lurid details of the funeral just right, it was this guy. He would do nicely in this tight spot. Besides, Barnabas could always edit the shite out of the piece before it hit print.

"You're a go, then," the Prophet's editor confirmed with a nod, turning back towards his office at the end of the row, talking as he went. "I want something on my desk no later than midnight. That gives you…" He checked his ancient wind-up pocket-watch, "A little over fifteen hours to get me a fucking amazing story for the front page. Otherwise, start looking for a new job."

Quickly grabbing his coat and hat, Smudgley was already heading for the door. Barnabas halted him with a roar, turning back in his doorway. "And if you see that bint Braithwaite, tell her I expect her in my office, on her knees groveling to keep her job!"

X~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~X

At the breakfast table that next morning, Hermione had a contented feeling in her stomach, despite everything that had transpired last night. She sat sipping her spicy morning tea, watching Draco as he cut up his Eggs Florentine with precise movements and fiddled with her remaining necklace – the Snitch pendant he'd given her during their magical first night together. Her gaze moved to the platinum serpent ring on her right hand; the emerald eyes seemed to wink at her in the light.

Had it only been a week since they'd officially begun their romance and now she was promised? How odd. Yet, it seemed so natural a thing to give herself over to Draco, as if they'd been lovers for years, instead of just days. They were a perfect match in and out of bed. He enticed and challenged her, and she gentled and comforted him.

She shook her head at how she almost hadn't taken this chance to be with him, thankful that he'd engaged her interest that night in the greenhouse, and amused that _she'd_ been the one to make him such a ludicrous offer as sex-for-hire to start. Where had she gotten such courage to even consider opening her mouth and laying out such a plan like that? She had behaved scandalously! Sometimes, she looked at herself in the mirror and wondered who she was exactly.

It had all worked out though, she thought with relief. In that, she was very lucky. Their relationship could have gone in a completely different direction, and she could right now be broken hearted instead of wanting to burst from so much love. It was wonderfully strange how the Fates seemed to conspire to make things come together for them.

Reaching across the table, Hermione touched the back of her lover's hand gently with her fingertips, smoothing back and forth quickly. Draco's attention was immediately drawn to her action and his grey-blue gaze became glassy, unfocused as he watched her fingers move. She had a feeling he was reliving some sort of memory of his parents doing something similar in the past. She bit her lip, a teensy ashamed that she should be seeking her own happiness during a time of Draco's bitter mourning, and moved her hand away slowly. "I'm sorry."

Blinking away the haze of inward thought, her lover smiled at her. "What for? You can touch me anytime you want, baby." A teasing smile overcame his features, turning his lips up on one end. A naughty light entered his gaze as he lay his utensils down on his plate and wiped his mouth properly with his napkin. "In fact, I insist upon it." He stood suddenly, and reached out to take her cup from her hand, placing it on its saucer gently, and then lifted her into his arms. He held her to his chest tightly, nuzzling the top of her head with his nose and inhaling deeply.

"I love you, Hermione."

It was a sincere, sweet proclamation, filled with a kaleidoscope of meaning. The whole universe was held together by such simple, unadorned words.

He tipped her chin back with one hand and lowered his lips to hers, exploring her crevices languidly, dipping his tongue in between the slit of her mouth teasingly. "I know we haven't had this for very long," he murmured, pulling back slightly, feathering her cheek with his fingers. "But being with you feels right to me. Fated almost, I guess. Does it feel the same for you?"

It was funny how their thoughts were growing closer as the days melted together. She nodded. "I know I'm meant to be with you, Draco," she confessed, gripping his hips tightly, assuring his core didn't move too far from hers. She wanted that connection between them, even over clothes and through skin. She _needed_ it. They stood like that for long minutes, simply touching and holding and breathing in each other's air, and there was magic between them. When Hermione closed her eyes, she could feel it surrounding, comforting and tantalizing her senses. Inhaling deeply, she took him all in, letting the essence of Draco pour over and into her until she felt filled to the brim with their harmonious feelings.

Her lover sighed into her curls as he laid his cheek to the top of her head and pressed down a kiss. "I even love this infuriating hair of yours that is never truly tamed." He pulled back slightly and looked down at her playfully. "Come to think of it… it must be a Gryffindor trait. No one in your house _ever_ has neat hair on a daily basis."

Hermione chuckled, nuzzling her nose into the well of his throat, letting her hands roam over his backside lasciviously, thinking to tease back. "Cormac McLaggen did." She waited for the inevitable fallout, knowing how much Malfoy had hated Gryffindor's self-professed "Lordling" simply because the curly-headed blond managed to attract the female attention away from Slytherin's own Prince.

Predictably, Draco growled and moved her somewhat forcefully against the wall nearby, pinning her against it with his bigger body. "Consider yourself warned away from that git forever, Granger." He leaned forward and bit her lip gently, but with clear intention of letting her know she was a marked and taken woman, his eyes hot with dark possessiveness. "I know you took him to Slughorn's Christmas party last year just before everything went to hell, and rumor has it he still fancies you." He leaned his forehead against hers and stared her down, his eyes alighting with lust. "You're mine."

There was nothing hotter than knowing the person you loved _truly_ wanted you in every manner conceivable. It empowered a woman's ego in a way nothing else could – not a sexy pair of tight jeans, not a form-fitting little, black dress, not a good haircut, not Amortentia-laced food, and not even the right shade of lipstick. Hermione smiled seductively, feeling emboldened.

Intentionally stretching to press her breasts into her lover's body, she worked a hand off of Draco's hip and slid it down the front of his trousers to caress his thick, hot erection that was already slick with his excitement and begging for her touch. He moaned and his eyelids fluttered in pleasure as she outlined his form with her fingers, stroking up and down slowly. "And you're mine." She flashed his ring on her hand with a small wave. "Proof to the McLaggens of this world."

He slipped his hand over her belly and began rubbing soft circles under her jumper, the warm skin of his palm smoothing over her abdomen, creating tingling sparks throughout her body. "That'll have to do… for now." His lips captured hers in a fierce, wild kiss that left Hermione's mind whirling. He sank to his knees before her seconds later and shoved her flowing, cotton skirt up over her thighs. Pulling her panties down and off her ankles, he grabbed a hold of her tightly and nuzzled between her legs, rubbing his nose against her crisp curls. "Open for me," he commanded with a purr and a sinful smile.

Slipping her flats off, she leveraged one foot up onto his shoulder and tilted her hips, watching him rapturously, praying his mother or some hapless house elf didn't walk in any time soon.

With a dominant growl, Draco went to work reasserting his claim upon her heart and body by seducing her quite thoroughly. His tongue swiped lazily up her rosy-pink slit, drawing her own wetness up along the path of her labia to her clit, combining those fluids with his warm saliva. They both moaned as Hermione grabbed a hold of his soft, platinum hair and pulled him in closer, begging him for more in a husky tone. He proceeded to eat her out then with a rough possessiveness that was thoroughly satisfying. Hot shards of electrical current spiked through her body as she orgasmed minutes later, leaving her breathless, yet craving more.

Falling into the lull of satiation in the afterglow, petting through her lover's mussed mane as he stood and held her to his thumping heart, Hermione gave a heavy sigh of bone-deep contentment and smiled.

Today was starting out rather well.

X~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~X

Teddy's day wasn't going well at all.

He'd awoken that morning with a headache and shakes, and had to wait for his roommates to bugger off to the showers before reaching into his bag for his wand. He'd used the healing charm Daphne had taught him the day before and cast it perfectly. It had worked… until he'd caught one whiff of the morning breakfast in the Great Hall, and had to turn right back around and head for the nearest loo, where he proceeded to vomit his guts out.

He heard the bathroom door swing open as he exited one of the stalls, wiping his chin off with a shaky hand, and knew immediately who it would be.

Daphne had stopped just this side of the entrance and watched him as he wearily made his way to the sinks, her eyes filled with worry. "It didn't work – the spell I taught you?"

He shook his head as he dipped down to splash some water into his mouth. Swishing to get the acid out, he spit. "No, it didn't work." He repeated the process a few more times, his throat burning, then reached for one of the white terry cloths in the stack nearby, ran it under the water to soak it, and wiped his sweaty face down.

"I don't understand," she admitted. "It should have, if you cast it correctly."

Teddy turned and leaned against the vanity, continuing to wipe the back of his neck down, trying to cool his spiked temperature. "I cast it right."

They were silent, measuring each other, considering options. "May I try?" she asked hesitantly, reaching for her wand in her shoulder bag. He shrugged, as if to say, 'sure, do your worst.'

Stepping the distance between them, she recast the spell. Instantly, he felt the soothing, cooling magic wash over him, sidling away his aches and pains and tremors. It was as if he'd been bathed in a silky, effective curtain of liquid analgesic. It was decidedly different from how he'd felt after he cast the spell himself. Odd.

"Better?"

Absently, Teddy nodded. "Much. My throat doesn't even sting from the chucking anymore. Hmmm…"

Daphne tilted her head to the side, looking him up and down. "It didn't feel the same when you cast it yourself, did it?"

"No." He threw the damp, used cloth in the laundry chute built into the wall, knowing the elves would replace it magically in the stack as soon as it was clean once more. "When I cast it this morning, it was more like… a wind moving across me. Your magic was like water gliding over my skin and finding its way inside."

Daphne looked down at her wand. "What's your wand made of?"

"Gabon Ebony with a Thestral hair core, twelve inches." He pulled his wand from an inner pocket of his robes and held it aloft, smoothing his hand over the dark brown-black, heavy wood. The grip was tapered to a sharp point at both ends. "It's a dueling wand."

His ex- stared down the ruddy-brown baton in her hand. "That might explain it. Mine is Juniper with a Unicorn hair core, ten inches. The end is smoothly rounded. It's a wand designed for channeling and healing mostly." She paused, about to say something, then made up her mind to follow through. "I've heard that, like a Patronus or Animagus ability changes, a wizard's wand might need to be changed out throughout their life, depending upon whether their innate character alters dramatically or not. Are you… as effective casting spells with your wand now as you were a year ago?"

Teddy considered it. He'd faced his father down with his original wand – killed the man easily with it. But since he'd traded out for _this_ particular wand, he'd noticed a difference in his magic. There was always a hard edge to his casting now and the refined, delicate skills he'd once had, especially during Conjuration and Transfiguration (his best subjects and most powerful talents previously) were becoming more difficult to accomplish (that stupid non-verbal conjuration of flowers, where he'd had to use the _Orchideous_ spell to make it work being just one small example lately). On the flip side, his D.A.D.A. had grown in strength; Snape referred to him as a 'power to reckon with' in class, and had suggested he consider being an Auror or Hit-Wizard for a career (neither of which appealed to his heart, honestly). "This isn't my original wand. It was my father's. I took it after I killed him in a battle last January."

Daphne paled visibly and bit her lip. "I… didn't know about that. Your father, I mean." She rolled the smooth wood of her wand back and forth between her fingers, contemplating her next words carefully. "That's probably why healing spells don't work as well for you. Your wand… the wood and core… they're designed for Dark Arts."

Teddy sneered down at the implement twirling between his nimble fingers. "If I'd had this thing years ago, I could've stopped him…"

He stopped _himself_, realizing he was giving too much away. It wasn't in the nature of Slytherins to be so open. Hanging around with Potter and Granger was changing him in a way he wasn't sure he was comfortable with just yet. He had a great many secrets he never wanted anyone to find out about, especially Daphne. He was worried she might think him less of a man for some of them.

There was a moment of poignant silence between them. "He did this to you - your father. He made you sick like this." It was a statement, not a question.

Pushing off the vanity, Teddy slid his wand away once more into the folds of his robes, deciding not to answer her obvious query. "Thanks again," he murmured, staring down into her captivating green eyes. Once again, his breath caught in his throat at her beauty, and he was suddenly unsure as to how to exactly behave around his former girlfriend – especially after yesterday's kiss. Did he treat it as no big deal? Did he address what they'd done? Did he want them to do it again?

He cleared his throat instead, forcing himself to remain on topic. "I really appreciate what you're doing for me, with the healing and all." He ran a nervous hand through his bangs, shoving them off to the right, where they naturally parted. "Maybe… is there a way we can meet every morning for you to do this for me? I know it's a lot to ask, but it seems that my wand and magic won't do the trick like yours can. I'd… I'd consider it a big favor and would owe you."

Owing someone was big for a Slytherin, and it wasn't something Teddy was normally comfortable with. He typically avoided all such maneuvering, preferring to stay out of unwanted obligation's way, but in this case, he'd willingly pay just about anything to Daphne if he could avoid having to take potions and if he could function normally again.

She was quiet a moment, considering, then slowly nodded. "I can meet you every day at your room before breakfast, if you want. Seven?"

He shook his head. "Eight, if that's not too much trouble. My roommates don't leave until just before then."

"All right, eight it is," she conceded, and Teddy let out the breath he'd been holding in relief.

"And your favor?" he asked, hoping to know it in advance so he could get that out of the way.

Turning away, Daphne replaced her wand inside her own robes and headed for the door. "I'm not sure yet, Theo." Before opening the exit, she looked over her shoulder at him. "I'll let you know when I decide." With that, she was gone.

He sighed heavily, knowing that whatever form of payment he was going to be required to make to Daphne Greengrass, it would be worth not having to lose his stomach, sweating, trembling, or fainting in the little time he had remaining. She could have everything he owned, as far as he was concerned, if he could avoid any more physical misery.

X~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~X

Draco took formal tea with his mother and his intended very early that afternoon in the Tea Room. This was one of his favorite rooms in the house, because of its elegant simplicity – white walls hand painted with flowery shadow designs, a tall ceiling with 17th Century French swain, comfortable, crushed velvety plush upholstery to sit or lay back against, and several windows that lined one wall, allowing a nice view of the gardens in the back of the estate. A magically lit Victorian chandelier provided extra light, and the layout of the furniture encouraged conversation.

They sat in a strange, awkward silence across from each other in the three tall-back cozy chairs situated around a small, clothed table as Binky poured each delicate cup gingerly with the first tea of the afternoon. Culinary delights were arranged beautifully upon terraced, 18th Century Italian ceramic plates on a serving tray to the side of the table: a selection of fine finger sandwiches, no two alike; dill chicken salad-stuffed eggs; spicy roasted red bell pepper pimiento cheese cups with chives; fresh baked raisin-apple mini scones served with Devonshire clotted cream and homemade Strawberry-Plum Jam; and a selection of mini chocolate _petite fours_ for afters. The first course – the sandwiches, eggs and cheese cups – was served with a malty Assam-Ceylon blend called Ritz Royal English Tea, one of his mother's favorites. Per tradition, tea would be switched out for the second course – the scones and chocolates – to a passion fruit-orange herbal blend that tasted of apple, hibiscus and citrus. The final tea would cleanse the palette – a refreshing lemon verbena tisane that pepped the senses and aided digestion. Cream, honey and pink sugar crystals were available, of course.

"It all looks so wonderful," Hermione spoke softly, with a gentle smile. "I haven't had high tea since I was ten, before grandmama died. The last time was on Christmas Eve – a Sunday that year. We'd just gotten home from church, and she had this spectacular spread waiting for us, with five different types of tea to go along with each course. She made everything herself in her kitchen." She chuckled in fond memory. "Grandmama was a _big_ believer in home-baked comfort."

Draco blinked in confusion, feeling his guts roll about violently. "You're a Christian?"

His girlfriend's eyes twinkled in merriment. "Not practicing, but I do believe in God. I _was_ raised a Muggle, if you'll recall, and my parents are both members of the Church of England, although their particular parish is a more liberal, reformed branch." She shrugged. "They're all fine with me being a witch, though. They see what people like us can do as all part of God's plan and not some separate, oogey-boogey nonsense."

For some reason, that explanation made things unknot in Draco's stomach. He wasn't a follower or fan of any Muggle religion, as too many times in the past the separate sects had clashed with the wizarding community (the last time had resulted in the 1692 International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy proclamation, permanently dividing magic-users from the rest of the world). In his opinion, most religions were simply too full of individual, fundamental pomposity to be relied upon for definitive answers regarding the great mysteries of the universe, and therefore not to be taken seriously. He was a much greater proponent of Muggle science than he was of Muggle religion, honestly.

His mother, who had been silent up to this point, finally spoke up, her mourning face forcefully put aside while in public. "You would raise your children in your parent's belief system?"

Hermione blinked, and he could see his lover considering her answer carefully. "If you mean to ask if I would push my family's beliefs on any children I might have, then the answer is no. I would hope to instill in my children from a young age the desire to discover their own convictions when it comes to the very private issue of personal faith."

Narcissa took a sip of her tea, her gaze boring into her future daughter-in-law's (Draco hoped anyway), and in his mother's face, he could see approval. None of the Black or Malfoy family was religious creatures either, and Draco knew that his mother respected a strong-willed woman of intelligence and forethought. He knew she saw reason and logic in Hermione's answer. "So you _do_ want children?"

That beguiling smile was back. "Someday, I'd actually like to have several. But I'd like a few years with my husband alone before jumping into motherhood." She sipped her tea properly. "And before you ask, yes, I plan to have a career, too. I'd want to pull my own weight in a family, not just financially, but emotionally, physically, mentally. I think it's important for daughters to know that their mother is a potent force in her own right so they can learn by example the importance of good self-esteem, and it's equally as important for sons to be exposed to and respect that condition in women. Besides, I'm not a believer in stereotypical roles based on gender. As I see it, there isn't anything a man can do that a woman can't do as well - _especially_ with magic to nullify any physical handicaps."

Draco smirked. "Well, there goes my idea for keeping you chained up in our dungeons, barefoot and pregnant."

His mother's head whipped around. "Draco!" she admonished, openly scandalized.

He chuckled playfully, pretending to be equally offended. "Mother!" He snickered even as he took a sip of his tea, and reached for a finger sandwich. He alighted on cucumber watercress. "I'm not serious. Besides, it's more likely me going to end up locked in the cellar, given Hermione's temper." Under the table, his girlfriend stomped his foot and he let out a yelp, nearly dropping his food onto the floor. "You see! She's the violent one, I tell you."

His mother looked at him through hooded eyes. "Yes, well, Malfoy men need to be reigned in constantly, my dear." She turned to Hermione once more. "They are domineering creatures, with too great egos. It takes a certain type of woman to put them back in their place."

There was a moment of shared understanding between the two females in his life, and for a second, Draco felt inconsequential to this afternoon's discussion. "Shall I leave you two to plot the demise of my bachelorhood, or can we switch the topic now?"

"Indeed, my son," his mother placed her tea cup back onto its matching saucer and the meal officially began when she reached for an egg.

An hour later, it had been decided – without much of his input – that Hermione would make weekly afternoon tea dates with Narcissa at the Manor House on the weekends (so long as it didn't interfere with her studies or duties at school), so they could continue cultivating a relationship, and begin discussing the future of the match between the sole remaining Malfoy to the last of the Grangers. In effect, his mother was preparing them both for eventual marriage in the traditional manner, with a long courtship that would, he guessed, conclude in a wedding ceremony soon after graduation in June.

The old Draco Malfoy might have gone screaming to the hills at that point, but so much had happened over the last year, month and week that to his amazement, he was perfectly accepting of that arrangement. He knew without hesitation that he wanted to marry this fabulous witch at his side. There were absolutely no doubts to that effect. Hermione was perfect for him in every way: kind, compassionate, caring, powerful, strong-willed, as clever as Circe, as smart as Merlin, and sexy as fuck. They meshed on every level, and he _liked_ them as a team.

It was funny that it had taken him this long to figure out something that had been right in front of him for years. As he'd told her earlier that week, he'd always known deep down that she was it for him (which was why he'd tormented her for too many years, torn between his loyalty to his father's cause and his true, recessed feelings on the matter). To his surprise and relief, and despite being such a little wanker to her for years, she'd still chosen him over all of the men she knew.

Watching her now – how easily and forthright she spoke with his mother, who could be quite intimidating at times – he felt inordinately proud to be her lover. His cock throbbed in his pants as he watched her lips and those petite, delicate hands of hers move as she answered every single one of his mother's inquiries directly.

He _had_ to have her again.

With great discipline, he kept his hands away from the front of his trousers under the table, focused on answering any questions put to him, and bided his time patiently. When the tea was finished almost two hours later, and the conversation brought to a close finally, he waited until his mother excused herself to attend to correspondence that she had neglected, and then he dragged Hermione up, and holding onto her hand, moved them swiftly towards the Grand Staircase, intending on dragging her up to his bedroom for a serious round of shagging.

Behind him, his girlfriend laughed, her shorter legs in a near jog to keep up. "Where are we hurrying off to?" she coyly asked, and he knew she understood what he had planned for them, but was merely curious as to _where_ these plans would exactly culminate.

An idea came to him then that was so devious, that he nearly came in his pants thinking about it: he was going to take her in every room of the Manor House. So far, he'd had her in his Bedroom and private bath, in the Family Breakfast Room, and in the Indoor Garden. It was time to have her where he'd wished he'd had the emotional strength to yesterday… Altering course, he headed past the stairs and down the hallways towards his ultimate destination. "Patience," he grumbled over his shoulder, leading them onward swiftly.

As they neared the door in question to the room he'd chosen, he heard Hermione gasp; she'd obviously recognized this same path from the day before. They entered the Library, and Draco reached into his back pocket and retrieved his wand, waving it for silence. The door locked behind them. He did the same to the connecting doorway that led out onto the gaming room, ensuring their complete privacy. He then lit the flames in the hearth with another expert incantation, and with a final swish of his rod, he'd moved the coffee tables off to the sides of the room, ensuring that the middle of the carpet was completely unimpeded, as were the corner couches in the room.

It was towards one of those plush sofas that he now moved her, backing her towards it with frenzied hands, as he divested them both of their clothes in a rush, pressing hot, branding kisses onto her lips. "I'm going to fuck you all over this room today," he promised heatedly.

Hermione's eyes were feverishly gleaming in anticipation. She grabbed at his wand and pressed it to her tummy, and he took that as his cue. This time, he added a little bonus spell to the mix. The end of his wand bathed her in a purplish-pink hue, and she gasped. He turned the wand on himself and did the same, then tossed it to the side.

"What was that?"

His head bent to suck on one exposed nipple as he pushed her naked form back into the couch's pillows. "Aphrodisiac Charm added in to the Contraceptive Charm." He bit on the tender berry of her breast and tugged, causing her to cry out in rapture. "Guarantees we can fuck several times over the next few hours without having to worry about getting tired or pregnant, and it intensifies the need."

Gasping for breath, Hermione's hands plunged into his hair, pulling him towards her closer. Her thighs slid together under his, and he knew she would be soaking wet if he were to touch her now; the Charm worked its wonders fast, he remembered. "You're sure… about not getting pregnant?"

He nodded and bit her harder, sliding his fingers down over her mound, opening her up. The pad of his thumb brushed lightly all up her drenched slit and settled over her clit, rubbing small circles over it. Letting her breast go, he slammed his mouth down on hers, eating her up, and thrusting his tongue in time to a full rotation over her tiny bundle of nerves. "Like this?" he seductively asked in between nips on her lower lip. "How does it feel?"

His beautiful lover was panting heavily now, on the edge of losing all control, her fingernails pressing into his shoulder blades painfully. "It's… _gods_… my body is burning up! Every cell needs you. I'm dying for you to be up in me, Draco. I want you to take me _hard_. I want to feel you come in me _so badly_!"

Draco was in little better shape. He'd forgotten just how potent this spell combination was (which was the reason he'd only used it once before, he recalled now, as it had knocked him on his arse for almost eight full hours after a marathon sex session one Saturday night with the Carrow twins). Now, his dick was stiff and throbbing, and his sack ached and burned for release. Even his nipples were sensitive to touch. And every taste of Hermione was ambrosia from the heavens. This was going to be an _unforgettable_ afternoon!

Picking up the pace of his stroking, he wanted Hermione to find her first release quickly, needing to bury himself inside his sexy girlfriend's kitty soon. Her cries began echoing off the tall ceiling as she mounted her pleasure fast. "Yes, all yours… I'm all yours… I love you, Draco… _I love you!_" She orgasmed just as she gasped out her confession, her face pressed into his damp hairline at his neck, her inner thighs trembling against his wrist, her vaginal muscles contracting like mad around the two fingers he'd slipped into her at the last moment. He captured her scream of ecstasy with his mouth slanted over hers, loving how his witch came apart in his arms so honestly.

Removing his fingers and roughly shoving her thighs as wide apart as he could get them, Draco reached down and tilted her hips into the perfect position, sliding his cock through her folds once to mingle her fluids with his, and then he poised at the entrance and paused. "I love you, too, baby," he gasped as he began gliding into her moist channel. He rested his head on her shoulder, looking down, watching them come together again. "Feel me inside you again. Feel _us_."

He began moving immediately, unable to hold back, the spell compelling his body to act. He had just enough sanity to assure he wasn't hurting her, but that was about the extent of it as he pounded into Hermione's body, bringing her to climax twice before he shot his load into her finally. Even as he was coming down from this first joining, he was erect again in seconds, and driven mad by the need to fuck again and again.

The whole rest of the afternoon, they took from and gave to each other in every conceivable position. By the time the spell finally wore off – four hours later – Draco had come no less than ten times (he'd lost count of his lover's scorecard somewhere around that same number, over an hour ago), and he was _so__ sore_ and _so__ knackered_ that he didn't even have the strength to push himself off of Hermione's limp, exhausted body when he finally collapsed. Bathed in their combined sweat, his lungs aching, bruises already starting to show on his pale skin, he lay on her breast panting and thoroughly sated.

"Marry me," he bid the girl he loved with all his heart, skipping over all of the flowery, beautiful words he'd planned for this moment, preferring the direct route this time. "Seriously." A promise was nice, but being engaged was much better, he figured. After all, he _meant_ to make Hermione Granger his wife.

Unfortunately, his intended was already fast asleep, her deep breathing her only answer. From experience, Draco knew how difficult she would be to awaken, so he laid his head down again and let the issue lie for now, quelling his disappointment and reminding himself that there would be plenty of time later to ask her properly.

X~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~X

Narcissa's head was pounding. She'd spent the remainder of the afternoon and a goodly portion of the evening before supper writing out thank you cards to the funeral attendees and flower gifters, as etiquette required, and now she needed a stiff drink. Not usually one to imbibe – that had always been Lucius' way of dealing with problems – this time, she allowed herself the sin.

Crossing into Lucius' bedroom next door, she opened the front doors on his large armoire and pulled out his stash. Here was where her husband hid the best of his reserves, and here was where she reached for a one hundred and fifty-two year old bottle of Firewhiskey, pulling it and an empty glass out and taking both back into her own room. She poured herself a full topper, put the bottle down on a side table and turned to watch through one of the tall windows as snow began to fall on the back gardens, the winter wonderland illuminated only by the soft moon and the magically lit hearth behind her, its light filtering out through the panes.

"To us, my love," she toasted with tears in her eyes and downed the contents of the entire glass in one very unladylike pull. There was no burn; the alcohol was smooth, warming, aged perfectly. No doubt it had been worth whatever exorbitant fee her husband had paid for it.

She began to sob again then, pressing her forehead to the Italian crystal glass in her hand. Her shoulders shook with her despair, and the tears ran down her perfectly sculpted cheeks, ruining her carefully applied make-up. "Come back," she whispered in agony. "Oh, Lucius… _Please_, come back or take me with you. I don't want to be without you."

A warm caress brushed against her hand, removing the glass from her fingers. Hot breath glided across the skin of her neck as a presence moved in behind her. "I was saving this for our fiftieth, Cissa. I planned to lap it off your breasts while fucking you into insensibility, my beautiful wife."

Between one hiccup and the next, Narcissa simply stopped all movement and sound, the hairs on the back of her neck rising in terror. Surely, the alcohol couldn't be working that fast through her system? Yes, she wasn't used to consuming spirits, but suffering hallucinations from one glass of Firewhiskey? Not likely, no matter the vintage. Perhaps she'd finally cracked under the pressure, then. Yes, that seemed most likely. She had finally gone mad, like her younger sister, Bella, had and now she was fantasizing that her dead husband was here, next to her, touching and speaking to her in that familiar way that had always made her weak in the knees.

Hands – pale, long fingered, elegant – appeared to either side, resting upon the glass before her, trapping her between two black clad arms. The illusion pressed his body intimately into the contours of hers; fitting them just perfect, as only long-time partners could know to do. Soft lips kissed her cheek, followed by a sigh. "I'm sorry, my love. Forgive me."

Tears fell again from her lashes. Yes, this was just an imagining. Either that or his ghost had returned to torment her. "Take me with you," she begged softly. "I don't want to live here without you."

There was a momentary pause, and then a deep chuckle that was too familiar. "Live here without me?" The hands moved, wrapping those arms about her middle and pulling her in tight against a very real frame – one that was hard and fully erect against her back. "I don't think you need to worry about that, my Cissa."


	15. Chapter 26 and 27

**CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX: ****I AM YOURS**

_**The Daily Prophet Headquarters, Daigon Alley, London, England**_

_**& Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire, England**_

_**& Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland **_

_**Sunday, November 30, 1997**_

Barnabas Cuffe was _not_ a happy man.

Betty Braithwaite was dead. The no good bint had gone and gotten herself offed while out on assignment. Her body had been found dumped just one kilometer from Malfoy Manor.

That meant she'd been working on the story he'd assigned her before her death. He was further assuming that meant she'd been murdered for something she'd uncovered. Could it have been that she's stumbled accidentally across one of the escaping Death Eaters? Or had the Malfoys sicced someone on her for intruding on their private grief and things had gotten out of hand?

The question now was what should he do about it? Would it make good business sense to send one of his other reporters out to pick-up with Braithwaite left off, even knowing the danger to their person?

Smudgley was out of the question. The man would piss himself silly if even presented with the task.

Maybe he could arrange it with the Ministry to let Skeeter out of house arrest? The idea had merit. That chick had balls of brass iron, and was as slick as a pond frog at escaping trouble, and she _always_ got her story, no matter what it cost.

He called an assistant into the office and arranged to have condolence flowers sent to Braithwaite's mother, her only surviving relative, and he requested her desk be packed up and the contents brought into him so he could go through them.

Thirty minutes later, he was going through the box of Braithwaite's life and stumbled across something that, at first, looked like nothing more than scrap for the bin. Then, he took a second look at it and realized its importance right away.

He called his assistant back into his office. "Get me a meeting with the Minister _right away_."

Wiping sweat off his brow and lip, he stared at the paper and swallowed back the gnawing fear that clawed at his guts. _Merlin's balls, let her have been wrong!_

X~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~X

Hermione's skin tingled warmly, and a buzzing against her hand woke her up. Tugged from a deep sleep, she opened her eyes to find herself lying on the same couch she'd finally succumbed to exhaustion however many hours previous (was that daylight streaming in through the windows nearby?). A familiar, heavy arm was draped across hers, and a hot body was tucked around hers firmly, holding her in place against a rock-hard erection.

She stirred as the buzzing up her arm grew in intensity. Looking down where her palm lay open against her naked thigh, something golden and shiny lay. A cold chill ran up her spine as she recognized instantly what it was that was now back in her possession. "Oh, gods," she breathed in shock. "Draco… Draco, wake up," she begged, sitting up, pulling the Time-Turner to her face and staring at it intently. It had stopped vibrating, and its temperature was cooling, but clearly, she'd just missed another important opportunity to use it. "Draco, wake up. This is serious," she began hyperventilating.

"Baby?" her boyfriend stirred, his white-blond hair tousled into his eyes. He weakly brushed it back, squinting. "What's wrong?"

"Draco, the Time-Turner…" She shifted her body so that he could see what lay in her hand. "It came back."

His expression was one of confusion at first, then alarm, and he sat up quickly at her side, staring at what lay in her hand, the item now completely inert once more. "How…?"

Hermione shook her head. "I have no idea. It woke me. It was… buzzing again, and was warm. That's the signal usually for me to use it." She poked it with her free hand. "But, it's gone quiet again. This is the second time this has happened. I think… I missed my chance."

"Dumbledore took it," he reaffirmed. "We saw him. He took it the other night. How the hell did it get back here? You don't suppose he came back last night?"

Hermione shrugged. "I'm not sure. We're going to have to ask him." On trembling, coltish legs, she stood up, swooned once and landed flat on her butt back on the couch as dizziness assaulted her. "Whoa! I don't feel so good."

Spreading his legs out to either side of her body and snuggling in close, Draco put an arm about her supportively, and as she closed her eyes, he stroked her head, running fingers through her tangled curls. "An after-effect of the spell. That's why you don't use it very often." He chuckled. "Personally, I feel like something your pet Kneazle drug in, baby. And my dick's seriously sore."

She laughed. "I hurt all over, too." She reached around with her unencumbered fingers, however, and gripped his rod, stroking its hardness up and down lightly. "Despite that, you're happy to see me, apparently."

Her lover pressed his mouth to her neck, brushing aside the nest of her hair. "I'm always happy to see you, kitten." He wetly trailed hot, branding kisses across her throat and up her ear. "Yesterday was amazing, baby. You fuck me so good."

Giggling, Hermione tried to pull away, but Draco's arm tightened around her waist. "Not just yet," he teased, placing kisses all up her neck, one hand cupping a breast and flicking her nipple.

"I'm much too sore," she complained, "And besides, we need to get word to Dumbledore right away about this thing." She held up the now silent Time-Turner, even as his mouth assaulted her throat, lathing and nipping. "Entirely. Too. Much. Sex," she teased, as his hand slipped between her folds, stroking her arousal into life once more.

"No. Bloody. Such. Thing," he countered, inserting a finger into her slick, swollen depths. "I'm randy for you all the time, baby. We're young and just started having sex," he reminded her, snickering. "You can complain like this all you want when we're fifty, but not before then. Until then, you'll love everything I do to you. Promise!" He pumping into her rhythmically, working her up, adding another finger after a bit. It didn't take long before she was honestly squirming, breathing fast, musky wet with need, and moaning like an animal in heat.

"I want you to swear your love to me," he bid sweetly, angelically, all the while rubbing his thumb over her engorged clit. "Swear you're only mine. No one else's, baby."

Hermione glanced over her shoulder at him with a mischievous grin. "Will you swear the same?" she challenged.

Slowly, Draco added a third finger, and she tilted her hips forward and leaned back into his embrace to give him deeper access, moaning as he stretched her wide open again. His free hand caressed her breast, tugging on her nipple a little harder, injecting a tiny ounce of pain in with her pleasure. It felt so good she almost swooned on the spot.

"I swear to you, Granger, I am _all_ yours," he murmured hotly against her ear, letting his tongue bathe the side of her neck and lobe.

Hermione let her eyelids slid shut as she rode out the ecstasy he evoked. "I swear to you, Draco," she whispered, panting, her hand gripping his wrist and moving with him, even as her lower muscles all clenched up, tightening as the hot lightning began to arc through her core. "I am all yours, too."

"Come for me, baby," he charmed her. "Come hard."

She did as he wished, screaming to the ceiling her love for him and feeling the universe explode in color and warmth.

In the aftermath, he wrapped himself about her and held her to his heart, whispering over and over that he loved her. She returned the sentiment with her lips, her voice, her fingers and her eyes as he tilted her back over one strong arm and slanted his mouth over hers possessively.

"Mine," Draco asserted his claim with finality, kissing her deeply.

Hermione nuzzled him, contented and lazy, smiling like a thoroughly sated and happy fool. "And you're mine. We're each other's."

X~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~X

It wasn't until the afternoon luncheon that Draco emerged from the shower in his bathroom, freshly clean and dressed in a fresh pair of crisply laundered slacks and dress shirt. Hermione was humming while she combed through her hair in front of the mirror, and he excused himself to go check on his mother.

It took him a minute or two to get to her wing of the Manor, but as he approached her door, he stopped, the hairs on the back of his neck standing to attention in wary suspicion. Something wasn't right. The door to his mother's private apartments was closed, but there was a funny smell in the air, like sweet metal… copper… too sickly for his nose to process. He remembered that smell distinctly from his past.

Rodolphus' blood had smelled like that.

_Oh, fucking hell_, he inwardly swore, retrieving his wand hurriedly with shaking fingers from his back pocket and rushing to his mother's door, throwing it wide and stepping around the edge, preparing for an attack. Nothing came at him, so he crouched down low and peeked around the corner. His mother's bedroom appeared deserted. Creeping in, he checked her closet and her bathroom to be sure, and then looked about for clues as to where the smell was originating from.

There, before the window, was a pool of crimson that had soaked deep into the carpet.

And on the window. A bloodied feminine hand print appeared slightly smudged.

No.

No, no, _NO!_

He must have been screaming – he didn't remember doing it, honestly – but Hermione was suddenly there next to him, her hands on his face, pulling him about to center on her. Her mouth moved, but not with any sound that was discernable to him in that moment. Finally, she shook him and the world converged with his senses, slamming him back into himself.

"…aco, calm down! Stop shouting!" she begged, her eyes wide with terror and pain. "Calm down for me. I'm here. Look at me. Focus on me."

With a shaky hand, he reached up to touch her cheek… and noticed blood congealing on his knuckles. For some reason, that cherry liquid blossoming against his too-pale skin was the most fascinating thing in the universe just then, and he couldn't tear his eyes from it.

"Draco? Draco, look at me," his lover commanded, her voice like an iron fist on his will. He turned to her, awaited her command, completely numb.

Shock. He was in shock. He remembered this sensation. Rodolphus had just combusted right before him…

Hermione measured him carefully, and then looked over her shoulder. A house elf stood there. Draco thought he should recognize it, but the name escaped him. "Binky, go to Headmaster Dumbledore and bring him and Professor Snape back here immediately, right to this room," she instructed the little creature.

With a snap of its too long fingers, the bulging-eyed creature simply nodded and then disappeared. No, _Disapparated_. That was the correct term… wasn't it?

Granger focused on him again, her hands warm against his cold skin. "Draco, do you hear me?"

Dazedly, he nodded.

"You're safe," she assured him. "I'm here with you."

He opened his mouth, but couldn't get the words he wanted out clearly as he was surprisingly in the midst of a violent shuddering spell. "G-g-g-gone," he chattered through clanking teeth, needing to tell her this one important thing. "Ha-have t-to p-p-p-p-p-protect."

Hermione turned him about and led him towards a bed, laying back into the pillows without pause and pulling him over on top of her. Her legs wrapped about him, and she forced his forehead into direct contact with hers, staring him in the eyes the whole time. "Listen to me, Draco: I need you to calm for me. Remember when you made me breathe with you that time in the hospital? Well, I need you to breathe with me again. Can you do that? Just breathe with me."

She inhaled slowly and exhaled the same. Draco caught on and mimicked her. This seemed to make her happy, and strangely, the deep expansions and contractions of his lungs were helping to clear his mind, bring him back into sanity, and his shaking slowly began easing up. "'M-Mione?"

"I'm here, love," she told him with conviction. "Here for you. Just keep breathing with me. Help is coming."

They stayed like that for dozens of heartbeats while he regained his mind, but then there was a snapping pop and Draco felt people crowd into the space behind him in the room. Something in his brain snapped like a rubber band again, and a red haze fell over his sight. _Protect_, was all he could think in that moment as he spun around to face the intruders, snarling, ready to attack, to rend, to destroy any who came too close.

"Easy, Draco," came a familiar, soft voice through the fog of rage. "We're here to help, son."

Hermione's arms and legs wrapped around him, securing him in place, even as he tensed for violence. Her voice in his ear was crooning, soothing. "It's Professor Dumbledore," she ascertained gently. "He and Professor Snape are here to help. Its okay, Draco, trust me. No one's going to hurt us."

His heartbeat was so loud in his ears, and it was suddenly so hot he almost couldn't breathe. He was hyperventilating.

"Relax against me," Hermione cooed in his ear, softly touching and stroking him all over. "That's it, trust me. I'm here."

Under her tender ministrations, Draco eventually felt his body pacify, unwind, and consequently, his reason return to him. He blinked, shook his head, and looked back down at his hands again. They were covered with cuts and clotting blood. How had that happened?

He looked about the room…

The tea chairs and table were smashed to pieces, and the wall near the window had a hole the size of a fist, a bloodied smear running down from the gap to the floor. There was an overturned and smashed bottle of Firewhiskey nearby. A shattered crystal glass lay near it, also on its side, jagged edges pointing away from him.

He looked back at his hands.

He'd done the damage, hadn't he? He'd lost control again. Just like during the war, he had no memory of the slip in his sanity, or of the berserker-like rage that had claimed him for who knew how long before Hermione found him.

_Hermione! _

Turning quickly, dislodging her limbs he pinned her back onto the bed and ran a careful eye over every inch of exposed skin. No bruises, cuts or damage of any kind. "I didn't hurt you?" he asked desperately, fearing the worst.

His girlfriend shook her head very decisively. "You stopped destroying the furniture when I came close," she explained, tears wavering in her vision. "You just dropped it and let me touch you. You asked me to help calm you."

Draco blinked. "I did?" He shook his head at the blank space in his memory. "I don't remember any of it." He shut his eyes and limply let his head droop. "Fuck, Hermione, I could have hurt you. I… I can't control myself when this happens."

Gently, she reached up and stroked a hand on his cheek, forcing him to look her in the eye again. "You wouldn't hurt me. I trust you," she promised, tears coursing down the sides of her face now to fall into her hairline. "I wasn't scared _of_ you, Draco, but _for_ you."

He exhaled a trembling breath, suddenly remembering the very important thing that had brought them all here to this place. "My mother!" he gasped, and pulled away, regaining his feet and looking about. "She's gone."

Severus stood from his examination of the red spot on the floor precisely where Draco had indicated by pointing. He was putting up his wand, the residual of a spell fading away in a soft flare of yellow over the area. "It is Narcissa's," he confirmed to Dumbledore, and then glanced at Draco. "As is the hand print on the glass. Something has gone afoul here."

That burning ire filled back up his belly, and Draco felt his limbs shaking again, an elongated snarl erupting involuntarily from his lips.

The Headmaster glanced up at him quickly, his wand in the wizard's hand in an instant, those pansophical eyes of his measuring, deducing, concluding a reason for Draco's untamable wrath. "You made your father a Wizard's Oath on your power," the man stated matter-of-factly. "To protect your mother, I assume?"

Draco closed his eyes and tried to regain control. He breathed fast through his nose and nodded, unable to speak just then. This is what he'd been trying to tell Hermione and hadn't been able to articulate.

"Ah, that explains it," the eldest amongst them nodded sagely. "Combined with your familial… temperament issues… it makes perfect sense. Your grandfather, Abraxas, suffered the same lack of control on occasion. It seemed to be hereditary, a by-product of your Norman French ancestry, no doubt."

Hermione gasped. "You're related to a King of England?"

Miss Granger," he turned to address his student. "Would you be so kind as to take Mr. Malfoy back to his rooms and settle him down for a few hours?" He turned to Snape, dismissing them. "Severus, please Floo to the Ministry for Robards immediately, and ask him to assign Alastor to lead the investigation here, if you would. I would like his… eye for detail… to pick over what he can here."

"Yes, Professor," Granger automatically intoned, and took Draco's hand in hers, leading him away.

He dug his heels in at the door. "I need to find my mother," he grit, feeling the pull on him to fulfill the promise he'd made to his dying father on the man's death bed. It burned through him, leaving him unsettled, agitated.

"We will do all we can, Draco," the Headmaster pledged. "The Aurors will discover what has happened here and whether your mother has been taken or fled of her own volition. Either way, we will find her." He approached and put a warm, comforting hand on Draco's shoulder. "You can do no more right now, but conserve your energy for what is to come. Allow Miss Granger to care for you in the meantime." He turned to Hermione. "Should you need a draught for relaxation or sleep, have Binky call upon Severus."

"Will you… be here for long?" his girlfriend asked their Professor.

Dumbledore nodded. "We'll stay while the Aurors conduct their investigation. It should take several hours – well until dinner, at least." He put his other hand on Hermione's shoulder, and Draco couldn't help the growl that escaped him, or the renewal of his hostile impulses.

The Headmaster looked at him sharply, and then slowly removed his hand from Hermione's person. He seemed to be gauging whether Draco would explode with violence once more, and finally, deeming it safe, turned back to Granger. "I'll come find you both when we are ready to leave."

Hermione nodded, and tugged on his hand, forcing him away from the scene of the crime and back into the hallway.

He didn't remember the walk back to his apartments, but he recalled the whispers of the portraits on the walls, and could feel their staring eyes boring holes into him as he passed. He remembered Granger sealing his door and silencing his room. He could recall the rush of pure sexual energy that passed through him as she accidentally brushed against his hip on the way past, and then he was on her and in her, their clothes torn away by a resurgence of his aggression.

Holding her wrists by her ears, he ate at her mouth as he pounded away inside her, needing to feel her under him, desperate to tame the feral heart beating wildly within him. Neither said a word during this fast, almost brutal joining, and he came in her quickly with a cry that unleashed a torrent of emotion. Tears poured down his cheeks as he finally gave in to his terror; the fear that his mother was wounded or dead, the anguish at the thought of having to bury her under a mound of flowers, too, the panicked dread that Hermione would leave him now that she knew first-hand his violent lack of control brought him low.

He was losing everyone he loved.

"Please, no," he begged, pressing his face into his witch's shoulder, shuddering. "No more caskets! No more flowers!"

His lover released her wrists from his bruising grasp and held him to her tightly. "Shhh… be calm," she murmured soothingly, pressing her lips to his with a rain of soft kisses in return. "I'm here for you. You're not alone. We'll find your mum. We'll save her."

Claiming her mouth once more in desperate kisses, Draco wrapped himself around her, securing her in his arms, only then feeling marginally less panicked. "I need you. Don't let me go," he pleaded in between his body's shuddering as the adrenaline kicking through his system began to bleed away.

"No, I won't let you go," she promised, cradling him into her and holding on for all she was worth. "I am yours. We are each other's, remember?"

Draco laid his head on her breast and limply gave into exhaustion, feeling it tugging at his lids. As they slid shut, he let go a deep, shaky sigh. "My 'Mione."

X~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~X

Daphne had come to Teddy's room that morning as promised, and cast the healing charm about him. It was lunchtime now, and he was in the Great Hall, having made it through an entire night and morning without once feeling the illness overtake him. His mood was bright as he sat across from Potter and they talked about Daphne's theories on a person's magic evolving over time, and the need to change-up wands as a result.

"May I see your wand?" his friend asked, adjusting his glasses over his nose.

Teddy nodded and passed his baton over to Harry, who asked him the materials behind its make. Teddy explained the wood and core choices for this particular wand, and what it was designed best for. He then admitted that it had been his father's wand, not his, pried from the man's cold, dead fingers, literally. "Daphne thinks the reason I'm better at dueling and Dark Arts, and have lost some of my skill at Transfiguration and Conjuration, is a result of taking up this wand as my own. Think that's possible?"

Harry considered it carefully, withdrawing his own wand and comparing the pieces side-by-side. "Not sure, but it sounds entirely plausible. My wand's made of Holly and Phoenix feather. It's designed for dueling as well, but I'm ace at defensive spells - which is what the materials used in its making resonate with best." He twirled his wand deftly between his fingers as he spoke – an action that demonstrated both the guy's amazing dexterity and hinted at the level of his discipline, as the wood passed smoothly and quickly between each digit, back and forth over and over again. He made the feat look effortless. "In the war, this baby didn't like it when I used _Crucio_ on Greyback to get him off of Remus. I felt it heating up in my hand, as if it were trying to stop me. And it _definitely _didn't like it when I cast an _Avada_ at Bellatrix. I missed, of course, but I've always had a suspicion that the wand caused me to fail in that casting on purpose. Maybe a wand has a some kind of magical understanding of its purpose when it's made and doesn't like deviating from that calling?" He shrugged, looking up at Teddy. "The wand chooses the wizard, right? That's what Ollivander always said, anyway."

Teddy mulled that one over. Did that mean that his father's wand – a wand made for killing and casting awful spells – was more in tune with his heart now than his old wand – a wand that had been made for benignly changing things and enchanting them for fun - had been? What the fuck did that say about _him_ then? The thought was disturbing.

Potter stopped twirling his baton around and brought it up to Teddy's wand, testing them out. As the two tips touched, they let out a violent arcing red spark that made Harry drop both to the stone floor and gasp in pain, shaking his hands. "Ouch!"

Teddy was on his feet in a second. "You okay? What happened?"

Potter was rubbing his fingers vigorously. "I'm good. Apparently, our wands don't like each other, though. I think that was a hex of some kind." He glanced up, adjusting his glasses again. "Where'd your father get that thing again?"

"Gregorovitch made it," Teddy explained. "Dad used to brag on it. Said he'd traded up his old wand for this one near the end of the First Wizarding War, before Voldy hexed himself to death by cursing you. It was the very last wand the old geezer made before he went into hiding."

Potter considered that, looking down at his hand, which carried a distinctive burn mark now. "Yeah, well… it's a nasty thing, isn't it?" He bent and retrieved the black wooden rod, passing it off to Teddy. "I'm gonna go see Pomfrey for this," he indicated the skin that was, even now, bubbling up with a Second Degree burn. He gathered his wand from the floor and put it in a pocket inside his robes, but paused as he made to go, looking at Teddy's wand again with a distinct, thoughtful frown. "Be careful with that thing," he advised. "It doesn't seem too friendly to me." With that, his friend walked off to the Medi-Ward.

Teddy sat back down, staring at the inert piece of wood in his hand. It didn't thrum, didn't feel like anything to him, really. His old wand had always made him feel calm just by touching it, but his father's wand was like holding onto empty null space. There was nothing – no temperature to compare or gauge it to, no sense of a magical presence. He pondered that as he finished his meal in silence.

X~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~X

That evening, Teddy wasn't feeling so hot. His symptoms – albeit greatly tamped down from usual – were back, and he was fighting the sweats. He waited for two girls to climb the Slytherin girls' dorm stairs and followed them up quickly (beating the charm placed upon them once more to keep his gender out), and made his way towards Daphne's room. He knocked silently, and was surprised by the presence of Hestia Carrow glaring at him with narrowed, distrustful eyes.

"Is Daphne here?" he asked, feeling the weight of the girl's disapproval palpable in the air.

"She's in the Library," Hestia's twin, Flora, answered from the other side of the room.

Teddy nodded sheepishly. "Thanks." Turning quickly, he made his way out of the dormitories, through the Common Room and up the stairs to the lower dungeons. Winding through the labyrinthine maze, he took the stairs up to the Entrance Hall, and kept going up the moving staircases to the Fourth Floor, where the Library was situated. By then, his lip and upper brow were beaded with perspiration, and his back and chest were damp. He was also decidedly winded, which was not common, given the number of years he'd had to acclimate himself to climbing stairs around the castle. His illness was definitely back.

Making his way through the Library (after receiving a death glare from Madam Pince and a reminder that the room would close in twenty minutes), Teddy hurried past the tall stacks, checking each gap, both ways, seeking out a familiar blonde head. He finally located Daphne near the back, in the area Granger usually occupied. The girl was just closing her books up and preparing them for transport in her satchel.

Despite how shitty he was feeling, Teddy couldn't help but smirk. Doing homework on a Sunday night was one way to guarantee his ex- remained unavailable for pestering by suitors. Clever minx.

"Hey," he murmured softly, treading lightly up beside her, not wanting to spook her.

Daphne's bright cerulean gaze turned on him, and once more, Teddy found himself drawn in by the color and intensity of her ocular orbs. "Hello,Theo," she greeted with a small, unsure smile. "How are you?"

He gave one last look about, not having seen but a few faces further down the row, but assuring their privacy, nonetheless. Leaning against the table with one hip, he rubbed the back of his head in nervous anxiety. "The symptoms are back. Could you, please…?" He waved his hand in a mockery of casting a spell over himself. "If you don't mind, that is."

His ex-girlfriend's eyebrows raised in concern. "Of course. I don't mind." Withdrawing her wand from her bag, she raised it and cast the incantation upon him. Instantly, Teddy felt cooled down and the shaking that had begun to slowly affect his limbs eased off. Letting out a deep sigh of relief, he closed his eyes and swallowed hard.

"Thanks. Much better."

A small, warm hand touched his forehead, and Teddy's eyes snapped open. Daphne was feeling his temperature, her face a mask of disquietude. "Hmmm… it's only been twelve hours since this morning's casting. It should have lasted longer, right?"

He considered that and finally shrugged. "I'm not sure what's going on anymore. This… it's never predictable."

Her fingertips slid down his cheek, following a path down to his collar, where his damp hair lay against his skull. The contact was delicious, causing his blood to quicken. Daphne, however, was all about clinical observation at the moment, and didn't seem to recognize his flaring desire. "Does it always start off as sweats though? Or does the nausea or shaking strike first?"

It was hard to think with her fingernails gliding across his skin so innocently provocative. His mouth became as bone dry as the Mojave, and his eyes slid down unwittingly to watch the soft rise and fall of her breasts under her crisp uniform shirt. "Sweats first always," he tried to focus on the issue, failing miserably as his eyes traveled up the length of her throat to her jaw, then to her cheek, then to her lips. Merlin, was she wearing scented lip gloss? "Shaking comes on soon after. Then, the rest."

Her hand moved away, as suddenly the atmosphere between them became charged with her awareness of his hot stare. "Oh," she dropped her hand.

Without thought, with no consideration for the consequence, he grabbed her hand and stilled it mid-air, and then wrapped an arm about her waist and pulled her in tightly, fitting the contours of her soft, smaller body into his harder planes and angles. His breathing had kicked up several notches as he bent his mouth to hers and claimed a kiss. It only lasted a second, but, _gods_, it had felt good. Her lips were soft, and tasted of strawberry lip balm. "Thank you," he murmured, his mouth hovering over hers, their eyes locked on the other.

She stared up at him evenly, trying to maintain a semblance of composure, but he could feel her slight trembling against him and knew her act for a lie. "I know what I want for helping you," she told him breathlessly.

That husky quality to her voice drew Theo in against his will. His cock engorged with blood in response, rising, throbbing in his pants. Slipping his hand down to cup her bottom, he pulled her in tight against him, grinding their hips together, letting her feel his desire. Teetering on the brink, unable to repress his compelling needs any longer, Teddy finally gave in with a shuddering sigh. It had been so long since he'd been with a woman - with _this_ woman - and time was running out for him. The past be damned, he _wanted_ her and was tired of denying and fighting it. "Yeah?" he coaxed, wanting to hear her stipulation.

She nodded, her forehead rubbing against his as they pressed in close. "Every time I heal you, I want you to kiss me." Her free hand kneaded his robes at his collar in apprehension. "And hold me, just like this."

He groaned in pleasure as her words shot straight into his heart, and in a smoothly executed move, he turned her so that he had her backed against one of the shelves. Sliding his length between the vee of her thighs, Teddy lifted her right leg under the knee and wrapped it about his hips. Her skirt rode up, and he was able to press himself directly against her panties. "Just a kiss?"

Daphne's breathing quickened and she bit her lips, shaking fully now. Her captive hand freed itself and mirrored its twin, grabbing at his shirt, pulling him in closer. "Theo…"

He bent his head to her throat and began lathing it with his tongue, tasting the light tang of her sweet skin once again. "Can I do this, too?" He bit her gently over her pulse point. "And that?" The hand not supporting her leg roamed up her waist to cup her breast through her clothes. "Or this?" He erotically slid up and down against her covered core, letting her feel his need for her, even as his mouth continued placing suckling, wet kisses all up and down her neck. "_Gods,_ Daphne…"

"Theo… too fast," she quaked in his arms, her voice a whisper against his ear. "Slow down."

The trepidation in her voice made him pull back, helped to rein in his intense ardor. Letting his hands glide back down her waist, he put space between their bodies and simultaneously let her leg drop back down to the floor. It took another minute to calm his racing heart and his demanding body, and then he pressed his mouth to her temple placing a small kiss, inhaling the light fruit scent of her shampoo at the same time. "You're right. I'm sorry." He swallowed and stepped back, letting her go. "I shouldn't have pushed like that."

Daphne's eyes were locked onto the collar of his shirt, and she fiddled with his green and silver striped tie nervously. "If… if we're going to do this again, I want it to be right."

He nodded and sighed. "Okay." His hand cupped her jaw and tilted it, forcing her to meet his eye again. "You set the pace." It was hard for him to give that, when his body insisted upon so much more, but he knew she was right. They'd been hot for each other the first time around, and he'd taken her cherry within three days of them being together. He kind of regretted that, wishing in retrospect that they'd taken their time to build up so he could have made it better for them both. Shit, he'd come almost right away that time, it being his first sexual experience as well, and she hadn't climaxed at all, being in too much pain from his size breaching her small, tight body. If what she'd said was true from their recent discussions, it had been two years for her – she hadn't had sex with another since him - and unless he did things right this time around, he'd hurt her again. The last thing Teddy wanted was to drive her away.

The lights flickered on and off several times for the five minute call to closure by Pince.

"Time to go," he tremulously smiled at her, stepping back with great reluctance. Slytherin's balls, he wanted to kiss her again. Just to keep tasting her…

"Walk me back?" she timidly asked.

Teddy smiled at her bashfulness. The most beautiful, sexy girl in school was shy - it was an adorable contrast. "Love to."

Gathering up her bag on his shoulder, he walked side by side with her back to their Common Room. Neither one spoke, but he felt his heart leap when Daphne tentatively reached out and held onto his fingers with hers. He gripped her back gently, pressing their palms together.

Tonight was an encouraging start, and Teddy refused to ruin the moment with thoughts of his inevitable doomed future, giving himself moments like these to cherish so he would have good memories come the end.

X~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~X

**AUTHOR'S NOTES:**

**The Norman French (who I have decided are related to the Malfoys in this story) were, in actuality, a tribe of Norwegian Vikings, who were rumored to not only have a legendary 'berserker-like' rage on the battlefield, but also a special connection to the spirit world (specifically, that of the land of the dead). The King of France (Charles III – a.k.a. Charles the Simple) gave this particular tribe of Vikings the lands of Normandy in 911 A.D. and bestowed upon their leader (a giant of a man named Rollo) the title of Duke of Normandy (which is a province in France). Charles did this to keep Rollo and his gang from constantly raiding his lands, killing his citizens and disrupting trade (the King smartly figured it was better to cede a little land and a mostly-empty title, than to constantly have to make war with these mighty warriors – a feat that was draining his coffers; in return, he received Rollo and his men's vassalage, payments in yearly tribute from the Norman province, and added these warrior numbers to the strength of his armed forces… clearly, Charles wasn't so 'simple' after all, as he and the Kingdom of France made out sweet on this deal). Rollo's people adopted the designation of their lands, becoming known simply as "The Normans" from that point onward. Of Rollo's line came its most famous ancestor: Duke William II (a.k.a. William the Conqueror), who defeated the Saxons at the Battle of Hastings in 1066 A.D. (killing the Saxon King, Harold II of the House of Wessex in the bargain). William then became the King of England, ruling from 1066-1087, and he and his rather short (but powerful) wife, Mathilda, were pivotal for establishing the greatest lineage in the history of England's royal family (his line includes Richard the Lionheart, Edward the Black, and all of the number of Henrys, including the infamous lecher and rebel Henry VIII, who broke from the Catholic Church just to divorce his wife, and after established the Church of England to legitimize his many remarriages, and who's children's squabble for his throne after his death – most notably between Mary and Elizabeth I - was notorious in history because it was marked by a blood bath series of **_**coups**_**). Just some fun facts for you.**

* * *

**CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN: PROMISES IN THE DARK**

_**Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire, England**_

_**& Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland **_

_**& The Ministry of Magic, London, England**_

_**Sunday, November 30, 1997 **_

Late Sunday night, around ten o'clock, Hermione answered Draco's bedroom door in a pair of casual yoga pants and a long-sleeved cotton casual pull-over. On her feet, she wore a pair of slippers Draco had brought in for her earlier in the week when she'd come to stay in his room; they were an amusing shade of pink and looked ridiculously fuzzy, like two puffskeins had settled on her feet to hibernate permanently. It was funny, but she loved these goofy slippers almost as much as she loved his ring and his necklace.

Dumbledore was speaking with one of the portraits on the far wall, his back to her, having waited for her to appear (she'd had to throw on something fast, given the previous state of her nudity in Draco's bed with him). Quietly, she closed the door behind her and crept to his side. "Draco's sleeping," she told the Headmaster. "He… he isn't taking this well. It's too much. His father's death, and now this." She was wringing her hands, feeling desperation take hold in her chest, clutching at her lungs and heart. "Professor, I'd like permission to stay with him a little longer. I don't think he should be alone in this house, and he won't adapt well if I leave to return to school without him."

Twinkling blue eyes assessed her for a moment in silence. "I agree. I think it best you two stay together for now. However," he held up a finger. "I think it best you both return to Hogwarts. We can arrange for Mr. Malfoy to stay in the Head Boy's room and move Mr. Macmillan back into Ravenclaw's dormitory for the time being. The wards around this house have been compromised somehow, and it would be unsafe for either of you to remain here. In the meantime, the Aurors will continue to investigate how Rabastan Lestrange entered undetected, and are trying even now to locate the whereabouts of Lady Malfoy." He put a hand on her shoulder in comfort. "If anyone can find her, Alastor Moody can, you know."

Hermione paled and bit off a gasp behind her knuckles. She recognized the name of the Death Eater who had been Bellatrix Lestrange's husband's brother. "Rabastan…?" She swallowed convulsively. The man was known to be a cold-blooded murderer, even more ruthlessly evil than his sibling had been. "Professor, this kidnapping of Narcissa… It's not just because the Death Eaters lost the war that they are after Draco, but they want at him personally for turning on them, for helping Harry to bring down Voldemort, for convincing Lucius to change sides, and for him personally killing Rabastan's brother, Rodolphus, with one of those Unmentionables. That's why they killed Draco's father with one of those same curses; it was tit-for-tat, wasn't it? Bellatrix and Rabastan are in this together for revenge."

Dumbledore tilted his head and nodded. "Yes, my dear. I fear you are spot-on once again."

Hermione considered it. "I know Draco said he changed the wards around the house after his aunt got in the last time. That means whoever it was that kidnapped Narcissa must have come in during the funeral and remained behind when everyone else left. That was the only time there was an opening onto the grounds." She glanced at her teacher from the corner of her eye, realizing what this meant and feeling the sharp, instant pain of guilt stab at her chest. "We had Binky keeping an eye on Lady Malfoy all week, just in case she needed anything. But yesterday afternoon after High Tea, Lady Malfoy dismissed us all, saying she wanted to catch up on correspondence in private. Binky went down to the kitchens, and Draco and I… we didn't check on her, or see her again after that. We thought she'd be safe here in the house." Her cheeks bloomed with color, and a tremendous regret burdened her heart, causing physical pain. "We left her alone."

Dumbledore's hand returned to the same shoulder, gripping hard. "You couldn't have known, Miss Granger. Not even I suspected a thing, and I was in attendance as well."

The weight of culpability weighed heavily upon Hermione's brow. In a bout of nervous energy, she began pacing back and forth, deciding to put her mental strength towards the problem before her instead of wallowing in self pity, as she always did when confronted with something painful that she didn't necessarily want to face at the moment. Her mind grappled instead with the facts of the case and made that quick leap of logic over the specifics that she relied upon for solving riddles, finding and making connections, and discarding others in a flash. "Draco said he recognized everyone who came in on Friday. I remember that distinctly - even Lucius' business contacts. And the only way into the house was by invitation; the Floo was blocked to anyone not bearing an official announcement note of the date and time of the funeral." She looked around at the portrait next to Dumbledore; it was of Draco's paternal great-grandmother, Magdelena Malfoy. The aristocratic matriarch was dressed in a prim, outdated Victorian style (high-collared, front button, black mourning dress, long, silver hair pinned up in a severe bun) watched her carefully, listening. "So, whoever it was had to have acquired an invite and had to be disguised to look like one of the guests." She took two more steps and then snapped her fingers as it came together in her mind, the pieces of the puzzle aligning perfectly. "Polyjuice Potion. It's the only way they could slip in without raising alarms or having the wards kick them back."

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, that makes perfect sense."

Hermione gasped as another thought flittered through her head. "Sir, do you think Rabastan killed the person whose invite he stole? I mean, he'd had to have incapacitated them so that he could steal some hair for the potion, and so they couldn't contact Draco or the Hit Wizards over the last two days to let them know what happened. Given what we knew of him… I think he must have killed them."

Solemnly, Dumbledore nodded. "I believe that may be a very real possibility, Miss Granger." He turned and looked up at the portrait of the former Lady Malfoy. "Maggie, might I impose upon you to ask any of the other portraits if they recall seeing anything out of the ordinary during the funeral of Lucius Malfoy? I believe the Aurors will want to know that information right away."

The elder Mrs. Malfoy stood properly and smoothed her dress. "I will inquire immediately, Wizard Dumbledore, and will record faithfully any suspicions to the investigators." With that, the lady walked out of the painting, into another one somewhere else in the house.

The Headmaster turned to her then. "I believe we should make our way to Hogwarts with all alacrity, Miss Granger. I will wait for you in the Drawing Room, while you and Mr. Malfoy pack your essentials." With that, he turned and headed away towards the Grand Staircase.

Hermione slipped back into Draco's room, and gently sat down on the bed at his side. After his rather quick mating of her earlier, he'd fallen asleep on top of her, and it had taken some serious effort in maneuvering herself out from under him to snuggle them both under the covers (her man's muscles weighed a hell of a lot). Thankfully, he'd slept like her for once: passed out cold. Now, he was lightly snoring on his side, one arm wrapped about her pillow, as if using it as a substitute while she'd stepped out of the room. His pale-gold hair was sprawled across his eyes, and she noted a trio of lines in the corners of his lids now – lines of sorrow and stress. Her heart went out to him. Bending over, she placed a gentle kiss on the corner of his lips, then a string of them along his jaw to his ear, down his throat, wanting to wake him with sweet tenderness. "Draco, wake up for me," she breathed in his ear softly. "Wake up, my love."

He stirred, his lashes fluttered and then his lids opened. He blinked several times, and his eyes shifted to her. Instantly, he turned his head to capture her lips. She made it a chaste, quick smooch, wanting to get them moving. They were keeping Dumbledore waiting, and she needed to still talk to her Professor about the Time-Turner incident as soon as they got back to school and settled in. "We need to go," she explained in as calm a voice as possible. "Professor Dumbledore doesn't think it's safe to stay here anymore, so we're returning to school." She cut off his protest with a finger over his lips. "He says you can stay next door to me in the Head Boy's dorm. That way, we won't be too far apart." She ran her hand through his long, soft hair, brushing it back from his eyes. "I'll stay with you or vice versa at night, if you want. We just won't tell anyone."

Her boyfriend sighed in relief and grabbed her hand, kissing the tips of her fingers. "I suspect Dumbledore already knows that will be the plan, but will pretend otherwise."

She smiled and nodded. "Come on, we need to pack."

Sitting up, the coverlet dropped, revealing his very awake, very naked body parts. Hermione's mouth watered, and it took a true force of will for her to shift off the bed and head towards the closet, where she'd left her things the first day she'd settled into the Manor. "Come on, sleepy head. Time to get back to reality."

Inside the giant dressing room, she headed for the built-in drawer where she'd laid out her clothes. As she moved to open the correct slat, the closet door suddenly shut and the light went out, and in a blink, she was dumped into the frightening world of darkness once more. All of her fears from her time in the hospital when she'd lost her sight – only a short two weeks ago - rose unbidden in her mind.

"Draco?"

She jerked and cried out in fear when a pair of warm arms immediately came about her, yanking her down onto the floor. It only took a moment for her to recognize the scent and the feel of her lover, but in the half-second between, her imagination had run wild with visions of childhood fears; of things in the dark coming to torture or eat her.

"You scared me," she huffed, even as she realized what he was up to by the frantic movements of his hands and the quick divestiture of her clothing. As he made her naked, cool air assaulted her skin in the spaces where Draco's flesh did not meld with hers. A wet, hot mouth latched onto one nipple once it was revealed, and began sucking, even as an unseen hand worked its way in between her legs, checking her readiness, preparing her quickly with a few well-placed strokes across her clit and entrance.

Thoughts of the outside world melted away entirely as Draco seduced her thoroughly with lips, teeth, and hands.

When she was nice and drenched, open and willing, there was a slight pause and then her lover's thick cock impaled her once more. He fucked her strong and fast and powerful, bending her knees over his shoulders, lifting her arse off the floor, gripping her hips with firm hands. He drilled into her, making her wail with the pleasure. "Say you love me," his labored voice demanded from out of the abyss. "Say only I get to fuck you like this. Say you're mine and no one else's." He'd pounded her deliciously hard with each insistent request he made.

Hermione hands blindly reached out and gripped his thighs, and she held on as he rode her into the carpet, loving the hammering she was receiving. There was something entirely too sexy and compelling about Draco Malfoy when he dominated her ruthlessly like now. "I love you," she gasped in reply, her climax building to a crescendo. "I'm yours, Draco, and no one else's. Only yours, in every way."

"Forever. Say forever," he further stipulated, tightening up, his muscles clenching, his strokes quickening, exciting every nerve inside her pussy with each shove.

Hermione knew what he was asking; understood his declaration of intention. With absolutely no reservations, she gave him what he asked for even as she tipped over into bliss, her heart pounding in her mouth, her soul reaching for his. "Yes, forever, Draco. Forever yours!"

"I love you, Granger," he pledged and came with her simultaneously, shouting his pleasure loudly, pumping his seed into her so deep, overflowing into her with his very essence. It felt so right to be filled with this liquid, velvet heat, and the intensity of his feelings. "Only you, baby. Forever."

In the dark, he bent over her, letting her legs go, his arms gathering her up, tightening around her. He pressed a passionate, conquering, blistering kiss to her mouth. "Forever," he whispered, lifting his mouth from hers, pressing his tired cock into her again, going as deep as possible. "Forever mine."

She should have been terrified of making such a commitment of such magnitude in such a short amount of time, but this last week… their entire time together, in fact… felt like a lifetime's worth of love. Every second with this man, even when they argued, was precious to her. Every touch, every look, every word… each nuance of their relationship had counted as a thousand days, as far as she was concerned.

Yes, they were so young, and yes, so very reckless, but this felt _right_. For that reason, Hermione wasn't scared, knowing that this most solemn promise between them would exist even when they shed the darkness and reentered the light in a few minutes to join the real world again.

X~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~X

_**Monday, December 1, 1997**_

Daphne had come to Teddy's room the next morning after his roommates had gone up to breakfast. He bespelled the room for privacy and locked the door with a charm. His ex-girlfriend (new girlfriend? he wasn't quite sure where they stood currently) then cast the curative charm on him. When the cooling wash of healing bathed over his skin and took his temperature down to normal levels again, Teddy waited for the witch in his room to let him know what she wanted to do next. He'd promised to let her call the shots.

Placing her wand on his bedside table, she turned and stared up at him for a few seconds in silence. Then, she walked into his arms. "Good morning, Theo," she greeted him with a simple, honest hug.

Teddy returned the gesture, exchanging greetings warmly. "Good morning, Daphne."

Pulling her head off his chest, his girl looked up at him expectantly. "Will you kiss me now?" she inquired, her eyes dropping to his lips, a sultry request burning in their depths.

She didn't need to ask twice. Cupping the back of her neck with one hand, slipping strands of soft, gold hair through his fingers, Teddy moved in, ravenous for a sampling of her again. His mouth hotly branded her as he claimed her lips and tongue in a sweeping, languid tasting that had her grabbing handfuls of his hair and pressing her body into his fully again.

Bloody hell! She had said she wanted to take it slow, hadn't she?

"But…" was all he could manage to get out before he was suddenly tugged down on top of her on his bed. Her flaxen hair was splayed out across his green and silver coverlet, as it had once been so long ago, and the visual brought up tactile memories that had him hard in seconds. He groaned and made to protest again, but her hand on his mouth stopped him.

"I know what I said last night, so… no sex. Just… just kiss me good, Theo," she breathed heavily, cradling his body in between her thighs, her eyes lit with lust. "I've missed this with you."

He moaned, and dropped his mouth back on hers, uncaring that the eight-thirty chime rang out across the castle, letting them know that in half an hour, the first classes of the day started. _Fuck it_, he thought as he tongued her fiercely. He'd take a detention with Snape or anyone else for this. Besides, all of his roommates were in classes all morning, and wouldn't be back here until after lunch. They were free and clear to fool around for hours, if they wanted.

They kissed for a long time before surfacing for air, and it was just like old times (their snogging sessions would sometimes last hours, with lots of heavy petting in between, he fondly recalled). Teddy nipped at Daphne's bottom lips, speared her with his tongue over and over, twining around her pink, soft flesh and pulling apart again and again. He attacked her long, white throat, and when the collar of her shirt got in the way, he loosed her tie, pulled it off then undid the top two buttons and slipped the fabric to the side to get better access. He suckled her flesh wetly, leaving behind two love bites that wouldn't show above the collar, making her mewl and strain against him in the doing.

"Okay, maybe a little more," she panted eagerly throwing herself into the embrace, letting him bite down on her shoulder possessively. "Yes!" she cried out, her hips moving against his frantically, her body aligned just perfectly so his covered cock rubbed up and down over her knickers, her skirt having been pushed up in her frenzied movements. He groaned and growled against her hungrily when she rubbed exceptionally hard into him, even as his fingers skimmed down her shirt, unbuttoning it as they moved further south, pulling it free from her waistline tuck, and splitting it open finally to reveal the expanse of her torso. She was still perfectly shaped – long mid-section, flat belly, and perky tits spilling just a bit over her white lace bra. He ran a hand up that toned abdomen, stroking her hot flesh, relearning its curves and texture, and all the while, he never stopped kissing her, melding their mouths together in a rhythmic, sensual dance.

Hesitantly, Daphne's hands came up and locked on his wrist, and then glided his fingers fully over the entirety of her breast, urging him to cup her and touch. He took that as his cue, and began enticing her nipple to attention through the fabric. His beautiful witch gasped and moaned in pleasure as he lightly pinched the hardening flesh. "Oh, _yes,_" she whispered against his lips. "_More._"

His fingers felt for the front clasp that he knew she'd once favored in her lingerie, found it and released it. As he brushed the cup of her bra aside, he pulled his head back and looked into her eyes, seeking any sign of a last minute rebuff. Daphne did not reject him as his index finger sought out that same nipple, finding it now exposed to the air, and stroked it once softly, then again. She closed her eyes and licked her lips, panting in reaction. "Don't stop, Theo," she breathed. "Pinch me again, right there."

Gods forgive him for being a total cad, but he obeyed, even though he knew she'd said she'd wanted to take it slow. He pulled her taut flesh out, letting go when he knew it would be just this side of pain, and repeated the action two more times, as Daphne gasped in mounting desire and ground her pelvis against him again. He rolled the mounds of her breasts under his hands, toyed with both nipples as she wanted until they were high peaks, and then he bent his head and took one into his mouth, sucking gently. His girlfriend keened and arched into him as he lathed her flesh, coating her with his saliva, and her fingers fisted his hair again, pulling him in tighter. He sucked on her tits for a long time, enjoying this treasure he'd been allowed to sample again, assuring that Daphne enjoyed every second of his attention as much as he was enjoying giving it.

Realizing that things were quickly moving out of control, and into a realm he was sure she wasn't ready for yet, Theo pulled his mouth away reluctantly, and moved back to claim Daphne's lips again. "You're still so _gods damned_ beautiful, sweetness," he murmured, reclaiming his lost nickname for her. "I want more, but you said to take it slow, so I think we should stop here."

Daphne's breath was labored as she struggled with her cravings versus her sanity. Weakly, she nodded. "Right. I wanted to go slowly. You're absolutely right." She tossed her head back and stared up at the overhanging canopy of his bed. After several heartbeats, she chuckled, and he was enraptured by the way the movement jiggled her breasts. "I _almost _wish you were less of a gentleman," she confessed, smirking.

Theo snickered. "Yeah, fuck it all, me too."

Glancing down her body at him, that playful smile that he remembered seeing from a lifetime ago teased her lips. "Would you be so kind as to fix my clothes for me, then?"

Instantly, his cock jumped again in his pants. She used to say that to him all the time in the past. He nodded eagerly, knowing that what she was really asking was for a little more snog time as he reverse engineered the path he had taken earlier, righting her clothes once more in the process. "Sure, I could do that," he agreed, then bent his head over her breast once more, gently tugging her nipple with his teeth until his witch was once more moaning and squirming in his arms.

They missed all of their morning classes as a result of their impromptu make-out session, and didn't put in an appearance in public until lunch time, when Teddy boldly took her hand and led her into the dining hall at his side, declaring to the whole world proudly that he and Daphne Greengrass had resumed their relationship finally.

X~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~X

From the quality of the light filtering into the room through the lone small window set into the stone wall, Draco determined that it was sometime in the late morning on Monday when he finally awoke, a naked, slumbering Hermione resting across his chest. He was in his girlfriend's bed back at Hogwarts, recognizing the pattern of stone work in the ceiling from the first time they'd made love here.

Was that only the weekend before last? Gods, it seemed like forever ago. So much had happened in one week to change everything in his life, to turn it upside down…

He had finally absolved and found absolution with his father, only to watch the man die not an hour later. He had then buried Lucius – along with all of his childhood dreams of their potential future together. In exchange, he'd gained the heavy responsibility of being the last Malfoy male heir on the planet, all of the financial accountability of managing his family's wealth, and he'd become the Baron of Swindon (which held its own set of social obligations amongst the wizarding elite) all in one fell swoop. None of those duties did he relish being burdened with, however. He'd have traded it all for having his father back.

His mother had gone missing, and he was panicked by his presumption of her whereabouts, believing he understood the 'whys' behind her abduction: his twisted Aunt Bella wanted retribution for losing the war, losing her freedom, losing her lover, _and_ losing her husband all on the same day, and he knew she would use Narcissa Malfoy - her own sister - to draw him out to exact that revenge. He was sure Rodolphus' psycho little brother was down with that plan, too, wanting his own slice of Draco for having dared kill his brother and his Master, too. No doubt, the two were working in concert, manipulating the other Death Eaters into doing their bidding. Who knew what sort of sick, twisted tortures they would come up with for the woman who had birthed their greatest nemesis (for Draco had no doubts that he, _not _Potter, was more hated by Voldemort's remaining followers, as he had been 'The Great Betrayer' - the man who had stabbed the Dark Lord in the back and led him to his downfall)? For that reason, Draco had to find his mother and rescue her immediately.

And additionally, he'd fallen so deeply in love that he felt both shattered and remade as a human being at the same time. For lack of a better understanding, simply put, he belonged to Hermione Granger. They'd committed to each other yesterday in the dark, several times – not just at his Manor House in the closet, but here in her bed. She was to be his wife someday, and then…

Draco let his hand smooth over her stomach.

He hadn't forgotten the anti-pregnancy charm last night, he just hadn't cast it. Neither had he reminded _her_ to bespell herself after their numerous sessions, purposefully making love to her multiple times, until she was too tired to remember. And he'd made sure he'd come every time inside her by casting a lesser-potent version of the aphrodisiac charm upon himself beforehand, giving him the stamina he'd needed.

He hoped she had conceived, but if not, there was still tonight…

Of course, his lover would be furious with him when she discovered his duplicity in a month, maybe two, when the symptoms began to manifest, but there was no choice now. He was the last of his line, and if he was killed by his mad aunt or his blood-thirsty step-uncle or any of the other Death Eaters still at-large and hell-bent to snuff him out, the Malfoys would die out. That, he had promised his father, he would not allow either. A Wizard's Oath was his bond, and he was a Slytherin, and this was his way – the _only_ way - to ensure his family's lineage remained unbroken.

"I'm sorry," he murmured against her forehead, placing a kiss lightly upon her, knowing she would not wake from such a small thing. "I love you. Forgive me."

Slipping out of her arms gently, he covered her back up and then collected his clothes, redressing in silence, watching the light rise and fall of the blankets as she snoozed on, unaware of the world temporarily. He would let her sleep, find peace in dreams while she could, and he would take this opportunity to set his plans in motion, without her knowledge.

Silently _Accio_-ing his wand to his hand from the floor, he made his way out, locking her door behind him, and headed for the Great Hall to look for Harry Potter.

X~~~~~X

Draco waited in a shadowy alcove off to the side of the entrance to the dining room, watching the throngs of oblivious students yapping away as they passed within meters of him and didn't pay attention to the small, curtained-off doorway. When he spied Potter sauntering in from the direction of the dungeons finally, he cast the buzzing charm that mimicked the exact sound of a Snitch's fluttering wings. Instantly, the Gryffindor Seeker stopped and turned about, looking for the source of the noise. It was a sound not many people would have noticed, but he knew Potter's Quidditch trained senses wouldn't miss it.

When those spectacles faced the curtain at last, Draco risked beckoning him over with a curled finger through the fabric. Potter crossed the distance, looked around nonchalantly, and then slipped through the drape when no one was the wiser. Draco cast a silencing spell on the area, to assure no one could hear them, and the two former rivals-turned tentative friends faced off, each leaning against an opposite wall from the other.

Through enigmatic green eyes, Draco felt himself measured up by Potter, who adjusted his glasses and finally broke the silence. "When?"

Sometimes, it really freaked him out how much Harry Potter sometimes seemed to just _know_ things; like he reached into your very thoughts and took them without warning you. What tell had given him away this time, Draco wondered? Perhaps a facial tick he hadn't paid attention to?

"Later tonight."

Potter tilted his head, considering that, and then nodded. "I'll be ready. I know a passage out of the castle. Ground Floor, D.A.D.A. tower. You know the statue of Gunhilda of Gorsemoor?"

"The one-eyed witch?" Draco asked, frowning, and Potter nodded. That grotesque statue contained a secret passage? Interesting. He wondered where it came out.

"Meet me there, one a.m.," the Boy-Who-Conquered firmed up the details succinctly.

Draco nodded firmly. "Charm a Bag of Holding and bring anything you think you'll need. Medical supplies, potions, clothes, toiletries, money. And get some food from the kitchens for a few weeks. I'll do the same."

As he made to slip past to leave, Potter held an arm out, blocking the way. "'Mione?"

He couldn't look the wizard in the eye when he answered him. "No. Just you and I."

"Are you going to tell her?"

Draco sighed heavily. "Yes. I'm going to leave a note for Teddy, asking him to keep an eye on her, too."

He made to go again, but was stopped once more. "Is there something you're not telling me?"

Draco grit his teeth. "They have my mother, Potter. Even if I hadn't made a Wizard's Oath on my father's death bed to protect her, I'd go. I won't leave her to Bellatrix and the others. Gods know what they'll do to her because she's _my_ mother." He turned the weight of his cold stare upon his new ally. "Know that I'm going to hunt down and kill them all. If you're not up for the consequences in Azkaban later, leave the _Avada_'s to me. Just make sure you take as many out as you can, in whatever way you can, and I'll clean up the mess behind you."

He pushed past Harry then, double-checked to make sure the coast was clear, and then headed out to finish his preparations. Time wasn't on his side any longer.

X~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~X

Hermione spent the better part of the afternoon looking for Draco about the castle, but conspicuously, he was absent. Instead, she bumped into Professor Dumbledore, and was drawn into a discussion with him, as he guided her up to his office.

They spoke very briefly about the investigation into Narcissa's disappearance (no news from Ol' Mad Eye, who was going through the invite list to Lucius Malfoy's funeral one-by-one to look for anyone missing, magically Confunded or Obliviated, or dead who could have been Rabastan's victim), and then once they were safely nestled into the confines of his work-related domain, they spoke of the Time-Turner. Dumbledore seemed as genuinely confused and disturbed by its unexplained loss from his possession and its reemergence into her life so unexpectedly. To her surprise (and a bit of consternation), he seemed utterly perplexed as to how the item itself could jump around, as Time-Turners were inert, except when you used them as a general rule. Her teacher agreed that for whatever reason, though, it might be best for her to retain control over the device, for it seemed as though she was meant to hold onto it. He promised to look into the mysterious item's origin, however, as he planned to visit the Ministry the following day, and could hop on down to the Department of Mysteries for a chat with their Senior-most Manager. It was then that Hermione found out that the Time-Turner in her possession was not the same one as she'd previously held during her Third Year; _this_ Time-Turner had been taken from the Department of Mysteries after the cabinet it had resided in had been smashed to bits during the fight with the Death Eaters back in her Fifth Year. Dumbledore had been secretly tasked by the head of the Department of Mysteries two years ago, after the incident, to keep such a dangerous item safely tucked away at Hogwarts behind its wards, so that Voldemort and the others could not get their hands on it (since the Ministry had been infiltrated so easily, and was considered no longer safe). The other Time-Turners, he divulged, had all been destroyed in that incident, and so the one she held in her keeping was the last of its kind in the world.

Why give something so rare and important to _her_, then, she wondered, but did not ask aloud, not wanting to get too deep into a discussion when there was still Draco to locate. For an odd reason that she could not name, the urgency to find her boyfriend took precedence in her mind and heart at the moment. She felt a queer sort of panic grip her, much as she had the night his father had been attacked, and it was this burning imperative that spurred her on at the moment.

After she left the Headmaster's office, she traversed the castle, was stopped several times by her friends along the way, all of whom inquired as to how she was, how the funeral went, whether Malfoy was going to be all right, etcetera. She answered all of the questions in as positive a light as she could, not wanting to divulge any sensitive information (especially the news of Lady Malfoy's kidnapping, which seemed to have miraculously escaped the attention of _The Daily Prophet_ and that evil bint, Betty Braithwaite for the time being), but she was also somewhat curt with her fellow students, needing to quickly scoot past them and continue her mission to find her Slytherin Prince. Her answers, therefore, were polite, but terse.

She caught a quick bite at the dinner table, shoving food into her as fast as civility allowed, and when she'd finished, she excused herself from her table companions to talk to Teddy, who was across the hall sitting next to the pretty Daphne Greengrass. The two seemed rather intimate in their close seating arrangements and casual touching and whispered conversation, she thought.

"Hi Teddy, hi Daphne," she greeted them, and the two looked up in surprise to see anyone paying them the least bit of attention.

"Granger, welcome back," Teddy greeted her, sitting up straighter, smiling. "How are you?"

Hermione had to look down when she answered, strangely ill-at-ease with lying about this particular subject. "I'm good, thanks," she automatically replied, although inside she was in a right state of alarm now, feeling that strange sensation in her chest again, telling her that something was off and she needed to correct it pronto. "Have either of you seen Draco anywhere around today?"

Teddy's brows lowered and he looked at the blonde witch at his side, who shook her head negatively. "No, we haven't. I didn't even know you were back until now, honestly."

"Oh, okay," she stared to back off. "Thanks anyway. Um… if you see him, can you tell him I need to talk to him, please? Thanks, Teddy." She hurried off, not even waiting for a response. She hardly noticed the strange looks she was receiving from various sets of attentive eyes about the room as she headed out and back up the moving stairs to the Heads dorms on the Fifth Floor, hoping to catch Draco there, resting.

There was no answer on the Head Boy's door when she knocked, and her room was empty. Turning on a knut, she spun about and headed out, moving floor by floor, and asking the castle ghosts if they'd seen hide or hair of her boyfriend (none of them had). Her night continued in such a way, until she found herself back in her room by nine o'clock for lights out, tears gathered in her eyes as the desperate clawing behind her rib cage began to make her physically ill. Where was he? Why had he not sought her out once today? Had something happened to him? But it was safe here, at Hogwarts… wasn't it? Perhaps she should sneak out and check the Owlry and Quidditch pitch one more time?

Strong, familiar arms came about her and the warm scent of simmering cherries in port wine filled her nostrils, comforting her, calming the panic instantly. She let out a shaky breath and dashed her tears out of her eyes with a shaky hand. "Where have you been all day? I've been worried sick!"

"Meeting with Aurors, doing some research in the library, talking to Potter, and writing letters," he explained nonchalantly. "Not necessarily in that order. Are you okay?"

Hermione shook her head fervently. "No, I'm not okay. I panicked when I didn't see you all day, Draco. I thought… I kept having this feeling that something bad happened to you."

Draco kissed her on the cheek. "We're in Hogwarts, love. Nothing bad can get in here."

Leaning back into his strength, Hermione swallowed her anxiety. She'd been behaving silly, hadn't she? He was right – Hogwarts was safe. During the war, the fighting had taken place _outside_ the castle grounds, on the way to and in the middle of Hogsmeade; no Death Eater had breached the gates or the wards around this place, not even Voldemort. Why had she even doubted their safety?

"So, what did you find out from the Aurors?" she asked, trying to regain control of her ridiculous imagination.

He kissed her throat, rubbing his bottom lip across her skin. "Rabastan impersonated Wilkie Twycross, the Head of the Department of Magical Transportation. They found the man's body in his living room. He'd been dead since Thursday night. He was at the funeral, though on Friday. That means Rabastan took his place with Polyjuice, as you suspected."

She and Draco had discussed all of her suppositions on the case last night while they'd ordered up a late dinner in her room (Binky had returned with them and graciously offered to cater to them whenever they had need). He had agreed with her that someone must have gotten in during the funeral. This report cinched it.

Hermione shut her eyes and said a quick prayer for the dead man. She hadn't known him personally, but no one deserved to meet their end at the hands of a despicable Death Eater. "How awful," she muttered, her stomach plummeting again.

"Yeah," he agreed and they were silent for a bit, each lost in their own thoughts, before he broke the peace again. "Hey, close your eyes for me for a bit, will you?"

Bewildered by the odd request, Hermione paused and looked at him over her shoulder. She was about to ask him what he was up to when he kissed her temple and hushed her. "Just please close your eyes."

"Okay," she played along, shuttering her eyes and waiting patiently.

Letting her go, she felt the air stir and a shiver pass up her spine. He came around to the front of her and her right hand was tugged up by his, his Serpent Ring was removed gently. She gasped, feeling a jolt of pain through her heart. "But…" she began, only to be silenced by lips on hers.

Her left hand was raised next, and then she felt it: he'd slipped something onto her ring finger. Her heart began pounding in earnest as he raised her hand to his mouth and kissed her reverently across her knuckles. "You can look now, but please don't say anything yet. I'd like you to just listen."

Hermione's throat convulsed, so she could only nod and swallow back a lump of emotion. Hesitantly, she opened her eyes and looked at the hand he held between them. On her left finger, slipped to just past her knuckle, but paused there by his hand, was an antique white gold band with round-cut diamonds running the entire circle, with more round-cut diamonds running the side of the band down to almost the bottom. In the center was a huge rectangular-cut emerald that appeared flawless. The entire ring looked to be worth more than her parent's home.

_Oh, Godric!_

"Do you remember on the night we had our first date, I told you I wanted you?" he asked, and she automatically nodded, recalling that conversation – her kneeling between his legs on the couch, him holding her close, them talking about their Astrology signs because she'd been too nervous to think of anything else to say. It seemed a lifetime ago now. "I knew it then, deep inside, that what was going to happen between us wasn't going to be casual," he admitted, heartfelt. "I knew you'd own me – own my soul - if I let you in. It was the best decision I ever made, you know? Now… now I just want to spend the rest of my life loving you, baby. I want you for my wife. I want to experience everything you are and can be. I want to give you all that you need." He leaned forward and kissed her so sweetly that it took her breath away. "Will you consent to be mine like that?" he asked, ghosting her lips. "Will you let me care for you forever, like I promised?"

Tears trailed unheeded down her cheeks as she nodded. "Yes! Oh, Godric, _yes!_"

Draco kissed her again, even as he slipped the ring the remainder of the way up her hand. As it came to rest at the seat of her finger, there was a tingling sensation up her arm. "It belonged to my great-grandmother, Magdelena Malfoy. She gave permission when you were in the room finishing packing last night. Her portrait thought rather highly of you, you know?" His smile slipped his lips for a moment as he connected gazes with her, locking on. "It's charmed. Now, the Manor will recognize you as mine, and you can enter the wards without worry. If you ever don't feel safe, go there and you'll find me. I'll feel your presence within the walls, and come to you. I promise."

That niggling negative feeling returned, settled into her stomach like lead. "But you'll be with me…"

He kissed her, laying it on with heat, working them up for long minutes until all that mattered was this burning need to have him inside her again. "I want you, my witch. Right now. Can I have you again?"

Hermione nodded, lost once again to their mutual seduction, pressing her mouth over his throat, biting down. Her fingers stripped him of his clothes with urgency. He worked equally as frantic divesting her of her uniform, and then he had her in his arms and over to the bed, where he bathed her body with his mouth, sucking and licking every inch. He made her cry out under his fingers, then his tongue, and finally his hard, pulsing cock. They moved together in tandem, fast then slow, hard then gentle, unifying their bodies as well as their hearts in their multiple couplings. Her hands molded themselves to his curves, running across the tensing muscles as he took her in position after position, watching as he retreated from her body each time, then advanced again into her in a rhythm that reduced her to begging for more - for deeper penetration, for harder kisses, for total abandoned completion. He filled her with his seed over and over again, just as he had the night before, and yet each orgasm she experienced was but a teaser, building her up towards a crescendo of fiery need so consuming that she physically ached, her swollen, wet flesh quivered, spasming as she reached and reached for that edge, desperate for final satiation.

When they reached that ultimate, glorious release from the torturous need, they came together one last time in a hot, explosive rush of fluids, their united cries of pleasure echoing off the ceiling, their sweating bodies shuddering and tightening up about each other as if they would never let go. Hermione felt her lover's semen burst deep inside her once more, splashing against the walls of her channel in long spurts, and it was utterly fulfilling and wet and sticky and wonderful.

He tilted her hips back as he leaned over her, wrapped his arms about her, pressed his face into his neck and held them locked together in place in the aftermath. They stayed that way for an indeterminate amount of time, his hand leisurely caressing her belly, her thighs, her breasts, while his mouth feasted upon her lips, her throat, and her nipples. "I love you more than my own life," he finally murmured against her skin, lapping, nibbling every inch he could reach. "And I swear I'll protect you. I'll protect you both."

Both?

Exhausted to the center of her very being, it took a great effort of will for her to force her eyelids to flutter open. Her vision wavered for a moment, and then cleared and she saw…

…Draco's wand trained on her forehead.

She froze instinctually, the fog of fatigue slowly draining away to be replaced by fear. Things were beginning to click together in her tired mind, and the picture they presented horrified her. "What are you doing?" she whispered in alarm. "Please tell me that you don't mean to go after them." He said nothing, just stared down at her with that same guarded look he used to give her long ago, before they'd begun seeing each other, back when he'd worked for the Order and refused to talk to her about his missions when she'd occasionally ask. "Oh, Godric, you do, don't you? You're going to fight them without me, aren't you? No, you can't! Draco, please, _please_ don't do this! If you love me, you won't go!"

He stroked her cheek tenderly, his silvery-arctic gaze cracked, filled with love and sorrow. "I'm going to put an end to this war once and for all, baby. I'm sorry, but I can't take you with me. There's too much to risk losing now. I need you to stay behind and be safe… for our son." His free hand moved down and rubbed her belly softly.

Hermione shut her eyes, feeling the tears course down her cheeks. "You planned this. That's where you were all day – setting this up." Her beaded lashes felt heavy as she cracked them open to look at him in anguish. "You planned to leave me from the moment your father died."

Tears ran down his cheeks then, too, but his face hardened and he put pressure on her chest to immobilize her as she began to struggle against him to be let up. "I love you, Hermione. I'm yours forever, like I promised. Now sleep, baby." He gave her a sad smile, repeating the words he'd spoken to her at the end of their first date. "Dream of me."

"Draco, no,_ don't!_" she opposed in a terrified sob, but he cast a slumbering charm on her before she could say another word, and darkness consumed her.

X~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~X

The One-Eyed Witch was an exceptionally ugly statue in Draco's opinion. He didn't have to hang around it long, thankfully, as Potter tapped him on the shoulder a few minutes after he'd arrived, removing his Invisibility Cloak from his shoulders at the same time.

"You sure?" he asked the bespectacled wizard, and they both understood what he was asking – specifically, 'Are you sure you want to do this, because it could take years and you could end up dead in the end?'

Potter stared at him in the dimly-lit corridor, the bright green of his eyes appearing a dull shade of dark grey instead. "I'm sure," he firmly pronounced. "Are you?"

Draco nodded, turning away to look back up at the statue. Potter's hand on his arm stopped him, forced his attention back. "You should know, she won't hate you," the man who was his girl's best friend told him in assurance. "She'll be roaring mad at you, but she'll wait for you, and she'll even forgive you… eventually. She loves you."

Shutting his eyes against the memory of his beloved's face – how betrayed and stricken she'd appeared as she helplessly struggled against his weight while he held her down against her will – Draco swallowed back his shame heavily. He turned his head away, unable to meet the other wizard's penetrating stare. "Maybe. I hope so." Shaking off the hand, he turned back to the statue, trying to bury his guilt and focus on the mission now. "So, what about this grotesque effigy? What's so special about it?"

A grin overtook the Chosen One's face, making Draco decidedly suspicious. "Ah, not everything is as it seems," he cheekily replied, stepping in front of the unsightly figure and rubbing his hands together. "Watch and learn, Malfoy." He stared up at the dreadful thing and spoke a single word: "_Dissendium._" Suddenly, the witch's statue stirred, and the nasty looking hump on its back opened to reveal a secret passage.

Curious, Draco approached and stuck his head into the dark hole, looking for stairs in the gloom. "Where's it lead?" he whispered, cognizant of how loud the scraping of the moving statue had been in the silent hallway and hoping Filch didn't show up to investigate.

Potter was at his back before he could think to defend himself. "Find out," his former rival challenged and then kicked his legs out from under him at the same time as shoving him forward. Suckered into the fall, Draco's bum connected with a smooth surface as his tailbone hit the floor, and then he was sliding down a narrow, sloping plane and was quickly dumped unceremoniously into an unlit tunnel at the bottom.

Seconds later, Potter – lit up by his wand's _Lumos _spell (obviously cast just before he'd taken the slide himself) - nimbly bridged over Draco's prone form on the ground and turned to face him, neatly having got his feet under him immediately. "First step's always the worst when you start out," the smarmy git grinned unapologetically. "Best to get it over and done with quick, you know?" With that, he turned and headed down the long tunnel, his way illuminated by his wand, leaving Draco on his dusty, sore buttocks behind.

"Wanking arsehole," he grumbled, regaining his height, rubbing the sore off his tired, bruised bum and lighting his own wand up simultaneously. In a few short strides, he'd caught up to Potter down the warren, coming up alongside the man. Utilizing his quick Seeker reflexes, he shoved the guy's arm, putting some weight behind it, knocking the Gryffindor truly off balance for the first time ever. A yelped, "Hey!" in protest was shot back at him as Potter righted himself indignantly.

Draco smirked. _Now_, he felt vindicated.


End file.
